


Strange Alliances: The Life and Fights of Captain Emma Swan

by Treluna



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, F/M, cs fan fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:31:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7894495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treluna/pseuds/Treluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan is the only female pirate captain in all the realms. At the helm of her beloved ship, the Tallahassee, she pillages and plunders beside her Quartermaster, and brother, August Booth.</p><p>Then one day, Captain Hook climbs aboard the Tallahassee with a flirtatious smirk and a plan to bring down the greatest villain in the realms. Nottingham, no longer content with terrorizing his own domain in Sherwood Forest, has now taken to the high seas. It is up to the combined powers of Captain Swan, Captain Hook and their crews to take him down.</p><p> </p><p>On the way, secrets are reveals, alliances shift and the two captains find themselves drawn to each other in more ways than one.</p><p>Meanwhile, Prince Henry receives startling information about his beginnings. Information that sets him on a journey to the deck of that very same pirate ship that Emma calls home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Open Heart

One morning, a teenage girl from the Sisters of the Open Heart orphanage opened the front door to bring in the milk bottles and found a baby girl lying in a shabby box, wrapped in a white knit blanket with the name “Emma” embroidered on a top corner. There was no letter full of love and sorrows, no tearful goodbyes. All the world knew of this squirming pink infant was her first name. The orphanage contacted their milkman inquiring about her, but the milkman did not or would not say anything.

The long abandoned manor house turned orphanage was home to far more infants than the dozen or so Sisters were able to care for on their own. As a result, many of the older children were charged with caring for the infants. It was an imperfect system born from desperation. Most of the older children tasked with caregiving resented this and often became neglectful toward the infants they were to help raise. August Booth was among those less than enthusiastic children. At the age of seven he had already cared for more infants than he could count and didn’t much care for a single one of them. Until Emma. When they first handed her to August, he was as apathetic as usual. She was just a baby, like all of the others he had to care for. There was nothing special about her. That is, until the day she laughed.

Three months after Emma arrived with the morning milk, August was caring for her as usual. He had just given her a bottle, as he did every day, before and then sat her up on his lap, patting her back as the Sisters had instructed him. August felt a tickle in his nose and sneezed. Emma looked up at him, shocked. They stared at each other for a moment and then the infant began to laugh. Her eyes crinkled and she reached her tiny hands toward him. August couldn’t help but laugh along with her. He then pretended to sneeze again and again, delighting in her reaction each time. They sat and laughed together for a while and then one of the Sisters remembered that they existed and relieved August of his tiny companion. Emma joyful laughter gave way to tears as the Sister carried her away from him.

For the next six years, Emma followed August everywhere. He was the only one who could get her to eat her dinner, the only one who could make her laugh. Emma was fiercely loyal to her newfound big brother and once punched a boy twice her size squarely in the nose after he had teased August. She folded her arms and smirked as he ran to one of the Sisters; blood pouring from his nose while August was doubled over with laughter. Emma still had a mark from the beating she received as a result of that punch.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” August said, wincing at the lashes on the back of Emma’s legs.

“Yes I did.” Emma said defiantly, “That’s what sisters do.”

Yet despite everything, despite the lack of food, despite the cold floor and the taunts from the Sisters and orphans alike, Emma was happy. She knew that as long as she had August, she could get through anything.

They never had the chance to say goodbye.

One day, when Emma was six years old, she and a few other children were sent to the local convent to pick up a donation of winter clothes. The trip took most of the day, as the convent was miles from the orphanage and the horse who pulled their only cart had died the winter before. That morning, before she left, she and August had fought, as siblings often do. Over they years, she had forgotten what it was that started the argument but she never forgot out it ended. Out of anger, Emma yelled, “just leave me alone.” and stormed out. The memory of those last words would haunt her for the next twelve years.

When the group returned that evening, they found that the orphanage was oddly quiet. A thrill of fear ran through Emma. She knew what that meant. It was always quiet after the merchants and factory workers came by, looking for small hands to do a grown man’s labor. Emma had heard horror stories of what happened to those children; their lives spent hunched over looms or fish barrels or foundries. Hands sore and calloused. Backs and spirits broken. Both Emma and August swore that they would never count themselves among that number. At that moment, as Emma tore through the halls calling for him, August was being sent to live with a fisherman. He would spend his adolescence gutting fish, sleeping on a cold damp floor and haggling prices with ragged customers at the market.

There was very little in Emma’s life that she could count on, very little that she had to call her own. August had been her brother. He had cared for her, raised her. She depended on him and him alone. After he was taken from her, Emma vowed never to trust anyone again.

Over the years without August, Emma withdrew completely. There were many days where she hardly said two words. The Sisters at the orphanage liked to joke that one day she would forget how to speak all together. As a girl who had been frequently outspoken and knew how to start - and end - a fight, the adults in her life saw this new quiet version of Emma as an improvement.

Though she was quiet, Emma remained as sharp and clever as she always had been. What was more, her voluntary silence aided her efforts to steal what she needed or listen in on private conversations. It was through these newfound skills that Emma happened to overhear the conversation between two of the Sisters. She had sneaked down to the kitchen to steal some food one afternoon when she heard voices. The sisters were standing in the kitchen, peeling a pile of potatoes for dinner. Hiding in the shadows, Emma only half listened to what they were saying, just waiting for them to leave. That is, until she heard her name.

“And what of the Swan girl?” asked one.

“Oh I’m sure one of the merchants will take her off our hands soon enough.” Said the other.

“When are they due next?”

“I was told there is a group of six or so coming through some time this week.”

“Well, at least it’ll be a relief when that one is out of our hair.”

“Now Isabelle, isn’t that a little harsh? I know she had a rough go of it for a while but at least she’s been quiet lately. And she hasn’t started a fight in over a week.”

“I know, but I’ve been here a lot longer than you have, Mae. You don’t know what she was like before. She’s quiet now, sure, but it’s only a matter of time before something sets her off again.” Said Isabelle. “I swear, the number of children I have had to patch up while she just stood and watched, smirking for all the world like the cat who’d just eaten a canary.” Isabelle scoffed and threw a potato in a cooking pot with unnecessary force.

Mae hummed discontentedly. “Well, at any rate, things are bound to be much calmer round here next week. They always are after a group of them pass through.”

Emma could hear her heart pounding in her head as Isabelle and Mae began discussing something else. She took a deep breath and fought to control her limbs. As quietly as she could she turned and fled down the hall back toward the room she shared with ten other orphans, sticking to the shadows as much as possible.

Emma lay awake for a long time after that. At first she chastised herself. What did it say that she was actually surprised about this? Her body had already started to show signs of maturity. It was only a matter of time before she was given away to some seamstress or miller or worse. Her entire value amounting nothing more than the number of hay bales she could haul or how straight her stitches were. Though she cherished the idea of finally being free from this place, she would not do it at the expense of her own self worth. Really, this shouldn’t have been a shock to her. Especially not after August-

Tears stung her eyes and she sobbed silently into her pillow. August. Every day she ached for her brother. If only there was a way to find him again. Perhaps, if she were not trapped in this place, in this life… perhaps if she were free from all the shackles that bound her, maybe then she could find him again. As the sky was beginning to lighten slowly from inky black to the dark blue light that preceded the dawn, Emma made her decision. Silently, she gathered those few belongs she laid claim to; Her baby blanket, the few changes of threadbare clothes she possessed and a small wooden doll August had carved for her years ago. She bundled everything up tightly and slipped silently out of the room.

For the next few years, Emma did what she could to get by. She stole from farmers and swiped scraps from patrons at taverns after they had passed out, usually around their fifth or sixth tankard. All those years living in the shadows of the orphanage had taught her how to survive. She hid herself in barns or tucked herself away in hollow logs. Though she quickly developed some favorite haunts, she knew well not to linger anywhere too long. The best way to avoid detection was to keep moving. She walked entire days to get from one town to another and always continued to search for her brother. Yet throughout all her trekking across the realm, throughout all her many inquisitions, no one knew the fate of the boy who shaped her life forever.


	2. Baelfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now 17, Emma is working in a tavern when an attractive man comes through the door and asks if she would join him for a drink. 
> 
>  
> 
> “So, what do you want to know?” Emma asked brusquely, her arms folded tightly in front of her.
> 
> Baelfire laughed. “Emma, I’m not here to interrogate you. I just want to get to know you better.”
> 
> In that moment, she could feel her resolve starting to shake. Maybe he was telling her the truth. Maybe he did just want to get to know her. She readjusted her arms but kept them folded in front of her.
> 
> “Why?” She asked suspiciously.
> 
> “Can’t a man want to get to know someone without a reason? Especially someone as beautiful as you?” Baelfire said and took another swig of his ale.

Emma had found a job working as a kitchen wench at an inn in some small hamlet in the Enchanted Forest. By that point, Emma had been travelling for so long that she had stopped paying attention to the names of the places she roamed. After a while, they all seemed the same to her anyway. What mattered most was that for the first time in her life she had a steady job and a shot at a decent life.

It was snowing the first night he came in. The first snow of the year. She remembered how he stepped in the door and saw her walking back to the bar with an armful of glasses. He smiled at her and brushed the snow out of his hair. Emma nearly let the glassware fall to the ground. She recovered quickly and brushed passed him, trying to shake off that feeling. It wasn’t the first time a handsome stranger had smiled at her yet no stranger had ever managed to elicit this reaction from her. Emma disappeared behind the bar and unloaded the glasses on the table beside the washing basin.

Emma managed to spend a full five minutes safely sequestered amidst the remnants of a dozen half-eaten meals and gallons of mead before Jacob, the chef, came swaggering back into the kitchen, half drunk himself. He pulled up short when he spotted Emma in her hiding space.

“Whaddya think you’re doin’?” He slurred.

“Sitting.” Emma said, a slight edge to her voice. Constant drunkenness aside, Jacob had always rubbed her the wrong way. She did nothing to try to hide this. Jacob was either oblivious to her attitude or simply didn’t care.

“Ain’t you supposed to be up front?” He asked, taking another swig from his flask.

“What’s it to you?” Emma shot at him.

“What’s it- ‘s bad for business, innit? You’re s’posed ta be workin’.” Jacob’s slur was becoming more pronounced by the second.

“You’re one to talk. I can smell the ale on you from here, Jake.” Emma wrinkled her nose.

“Get to work!” Jacob yelled at her.

“Take a bath!” Emma hollered back.

Jacob made a disgruntled noise, belched and then returned to the stove. Emma couldn’t decide which was worse: facing that stranger or dealing with Jacob. At least with Jacob she knew what to expect. However that stranger had stirred something within her that she had never known before. Her world was spinning on its axis and it left her feeling seasick.

After filling three more tankards, Emma took a deep breath and swung the door open. Her eyes fell immediately to the stranger who was sitting at a table to her left. She ignored him completely as she dropped off the glasses to waiting patrons. Their gold clinked in her hand and she took her time counting the coins before depositing them in a deep pocket of her skirt.

Unable to avoid him any longer, Emma straightened her shoulders and turned to find the stranger looking at her. She told herself that he was simply looking because she was clearly the only bar maid here and he wanted a drink. That was it. Nothing more. She’d give him his drink and he’d go back out into the snowstorm and she’d never have to see him again.

“What can I get for you?” Emma asked, in her most businesslike tone.

The stranger looked around quickly, “Are you the only one working here?”

“I’m trying to,” Emma retorted, and regretted it at once. And then felt guilty for regretting it. “What do you want?” She tried to soften her voice. It didn’t work.

“A tankard and a meal please.”

Emma nodded and started to walk away.

“Wait.” the stranger reached out and took her hand. His grip on her arm was gentle, imploring. “Come and have a drink with me.” There was kindness in his voice and warmth in his eyes. Emma found herself wanting to sit with him. She wanted to talk to him. If she was honest with herself, standing there with his hand on her wrist, she wanted to do a lot more than talk to him.

“I… No. I can’t. I have to work.” Her own disappointment was mirrored in his face. Emma stepped away and the stranger let his hand drop. Though she continued to go about her work, she was constantly aware of his presence. Emma could feel rather than see him looking in her direction when her back was turned, though he kept his eyes down when she did pluck up the courage to look at him. She began to notice little things about him: she noticed that he preferred the meat and didn’t care for the turnips and he leaned slightly to the right as he ate. She refilled his tankard without being asked and once she even gave him something that resembled a smile.

Long after he had finished eating, when the last dregs of his ale were gone and he couldn’t find a reason to linger any longer, the stranger got up and pulled on his cloak. He was among the last patrons to leave. Apart from the stranger, there were two regulars who were passed out on their usual stools. Emma typically roused them enough to drag their half conscious bodies out the door and hurl them into the muddy stretch of road beside the inn. She hoped that that the shock of the cold, wet ground would wake them enough to stumble back to their respective hovels. Yet Emma could see the snow piling up on the window ledge outside.

Though Jacob would have happily thrown the regulars out to sleep in the snow, Emma didn’t have the heart. She let them lie where they were. There was nothing worth stealing in this side of the tavern and given what they had been drinking all night, Emma was quite sure she’d find them just as passed out when she came back in the morning.

Emma walked toward the stranger’s table and took his tankard. She gave him a fleeting, uncertain smile and turned to leave.

“Baelfire.”

Emma stopped and looked once more in his direction. “What?” She asked.

“My- my name is Baelfire.” He said, smiling at her again.

There was such earnestness in his eyes that Emma found herself returning his smile before walking once more to the door behind the bar.

“Wait! You didn’t tell me your name.” Baelfire called after her.

Emma looked back at him, one hand on the door. “What fun would that be?” She asked playfully, giving him a real smile this time before disappearing through the door.

Once everything was locked up for the night, Emma checked the tavern one last time but Baelfire had already left. Emma tried to tell herself that she wasn’t disappointed. She almost believe it.

He returned the next day. Emma continued to work as she always did, determined not to let him distract her, yet she found herself time and time again glancing in his direction, just to see if he was really there.

The second night Baelfire came, ate his food and left. There was no conversation, no attempts at wheedling more information out of her. He simply thanked her, gave her another smile and let her go about her business. She found this almost as disconcerting as his behavior the first night.

The third night he took his usual seat beside the window and said, “Good evening, Emma.”

Emma gaped at him, completely unnerved.

“How… How did you know my name?” Emma asked quietly.

“I heard a few of the patrons call to you when you were serving yesterday.” Baelfire smiled, amused at her reaction.

Once her heart rate had returned to normal, Emma found her anger speaking for her, “Oh? And what else did you discover about me while you were eavesdropping?”

“It’s not eavesdropping,” Baelfire reasoned, “considering that you’ve told everyone in this tavern your name. Well, everyone except me, of course.”

Emma was rendered momentarily speechless. She couldn’t deny that he had a point, though that did nothing to ease the rage inside her. She was not used to anyone knowing more about her than she was willing to tell them herself. Back in the orphanage there had been a few children who learned that the hard way. It didn’t take long for them all to realize that if they spoke poorly about Emma, they would end up with a bloody nose or worse.

Now she understood why he had been sitting so quietly last night. He was gathering information, listening in to conversations as she stood in shadowy corners, the way she used to when she was living in the orphanage.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to be more careful who I speak to, with you around.” Emma said, setting an empty tankard in front of him.

“You could,” he said reasonably. “Or you could just talk to me. Then I wouldn’t have to resort to listening in on your conversations in a bar.”

Emma opened her mouth to respond but another patron was waving her down. With a sigh, Emma quickly filled Baelfire’s tankard with the pitcher in her hand and retreated to tend to the other patrons. As she had suspected, Baelfire did not leave when he was done with his dinner. One by one the other patrons left. Even the few regulars who usually had far too much ale to be able to stand properly somehow made it out of the tavern that night unassisted. Before long, the room was empty except for Baelfire and Emma. Jacob had long since finished cooking and retreated to his room upstairs, no doubt with a fully refilled flagon of ale.

Once the tables had been wiped, the floors had been swept and the money had been stashed away, there was no reason for Emma not to sit and have a drink with the very persistent patron. Emma filled a tankard of her own and took a hearty swig before walking over to the table where Baelfire was sitting.

Throughout her short life, there had been a number of boys and older men who had expressed interest in her. She shut them all out and didn’t hesitate to give them a swift punch in the jaw if they needed a little extra persuading. Though many had asked to buy her a drink, she had never accepted. Sitting here across from Baelfire, Emma realized that she didn’t have a clue what she was supposed to do. It was a very uncomfortable feeling. She took another swig and looked up at Baelfire, before looking away quickly and fidgeting slightly in her seat.

“So, what do you want to know?” Emma asked brusquely, her arms folded tightly in front of her.

Baelfire laughed. “Emma, I’m not here to interrogate you. I just want to get to know you better.”

In that moment, she could feel her resolve starting to shake. Maybe he was telling her the truth. Maybe he did just want to get to know her. She readjusted her arms but kept them folded in front of her.

“Why?” She asked suspiciously.

“Can’t a man want to get to know someone without a reason? Especially someone as beautiful as you?” Baelfire said and took another swig of his ale.

Emma had been called many things in her life. “Orphan,” “idiot,” “sis,” “child,” in addition to a handful of other colourful and unoriginal names, all intended to wound. Never once had she been called “beautiful.”

Emma’s eyes grew wide and her heart began to pound again.

“You think I'm beautiful?” She asked quietly.

Baelfire nodded, looking into her eyes. There it was again, that same kindness that she had seen before. Emma looked down at his hands sitting innocently on the table. She had never been an impulsive person yet somehow she found herself reaching out at hand and placing it on top of his. Baelfire looked up at her, surprised. Then he shifted his hand around so that he was holding her hand in his.

His skin felt surprisingly soft. Emma was surprised by how easily they fit together. Baelfire moved his thumb in small circles on her hand. Emma looked into his eyes. The intensity of his gaze brought her to her feet. When Emma stood up, her hand fell from his. Baelfire stood as well, disappointment and confusion evident on his face.

“Don’t go. Please. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Baelfire said at once.

“You didn’t.” Emma said, giving her hand a little shake in an attempt to quiet the trembling in her fingers.

Baelfire stepped around the table toward her. “Please,” he said quietly. “Please, don’t go.”

Emma stood frozen as he took another step toward her. He was so close to her that she could smell the faint trace of spirits on his breath. Her brain was working twice as fast as usual and yet her body had stopped functioning altogether. She didn’t move as he placed a gentle hand on her cheek and bent down, brushing her lips lightly with his own. Then Baelfire stepped back and stared into her eyes, waiting for her to decide. Emma quickly closed the distance between them and kissed him again, this time with more urgency. Baelfire matched her intensity and soon their arms were around one another and Emma was lost in the feel of his lips on hers.

There came a moment. A small, quiet moment in which her brain told her to stop. To slow down. To think this through. But then his hands slid down her back and a thrill of pleasure radiated from the points where his fingertips touched the soft fabric of her bodice and she stopped listening to her head. All that mattered to her in that moment was that this did not stop. All that mattered was that she continued to see the desire in his eyes and in the soft moan that escaped him when she pressed her body against his. To feel his hands on her, his lips pressed against her own. To feel wanted. To feel beautiful. To be loved.

They stumbled backward together, toward the door that led upstairs and they barely made it through the door of her room before her clothes joined his on the floor.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

He began to stay at the inn with her. He’d go to work for hours at a time and be waiting for her in her room when she closed up the tavern. Emma would fall asleep in his arms and wake him in the morning with soft kisses and a gentle laugh. Work suddenly didn’t seem as daunting. The long hours flew by as she lost herself once more in thoughts of him. Of lying next to him. Of the feel of their bodies entwined together. She’d remember how he brushed her hair out of her eyes and told her again how beautiful she was, and suddenly she didn’t mind Jacob yelling or a patron trying to hassle her. None of it mattered as long as she was able to come home to find him waiting there for her.

Sometimes Baelfire would be gone for a day or two at at time. Occasionally, when Emma did finally ask him where he went all day he simply responded, “working.” Emma knew that wasn’t a sufficient answer, yet she didn’t press him. Deep down, she didn’t really want to know where he was going. Because if she was honest with herself, she already knew.

It started small. There would be little trinkets for her every now and then; an intricately designed wooden box, a fine golden pendant. A delicate glass swan. And then there was the necklace. A beautiful silver chain on which hung a collection of emerald beads. Emma had gasped when he’d presented it to her.

“Oh, Baelfire, this is… it’s stunning.” Emma had never held anything so gorgeous and, she suspected, expensive in her life.

“Do you like it?” He asked her eagerly.

“Yes, of course!” Emma said enthusiastically. Baelfire moved forward to lay it gently around her neck and fastened it while Emma held her hair in her hand. She felt the weight of the stones as they sat on her chest. Once it was secure, Baelfire left a trail of kisses down her neck and wrapped his arms around her. Emma let her hair fall and laid a hand on the necklace. Beneath the priceless gems, Emma’s heart felt uneasy. Perceptive as always, Baelfire gently turned her around so that she was facing him.

“What is it?” He asked, worry planting a crease between his eyes.

Emma bit her cheek. They’d had this conversation, or versions of this conversation before. She knew how agitated he became whenever she cast aspersions on the suspicious nature of his employment.

Bracing herself for an argument she asked, “Where did you get this?”

Baelfire looked at her for a minute, subconsciously biting his lip as he deliberated how to answer her. “I picked it up,” he said as lightly as he could.

Emma took a deep breath. “Picked it up from where?”

Baelfire fidgeted and let his hands drop from around her waist. His scowl became more pronounced. “Emma, I’m just doing something nice for you.”

“I know. And I love the necklace, I really do.” Emma touched the stones again for emphasis. “But I don’t want to wear something that’s... stolen.” Seeing the look on his face Emma quickly continued, “What happens if the rightful owner sees me? It’s not like anyone will be convinced that a barmaid could afford something this beautiful.”

“All anyone will think is that your boyfriend bought you something that looks nice!” Baelfire’s voice was rising, just as Emma knew it would.

“But what if they don’t?” Emma asked as gently as possible, taking his hand. He shrugged it off.

“If you don’t like the necklace, fine. Don’t wear it.” Baelfire said ahortly.

“I love the necklace, Baelfire, you know I do. That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is this about?” He was nearly shouting now.

And just like that, everything that Emma had been thinking, every concern she had had in the last three months came pouring out of her, “You never tell me where you’re going! You leave, sometimes for days at a time, and I have no idea where you are or what you’re doing or if you’re even alive!”

“It’s none of your concern where I go or what I do! Really, Emma, I was just trying to do something nice for you. That’s all I’ve ever done. I have been nothing but kind to you and this is how you repay my kindness? By accusing me of being nothing more than a common thief? I don’t have to take this from you.” He grabbed a fine leather bag from the corner and threw what little he had into it. Standing in front of the open door, Baelfire turned back to Emma.

“You’re nothing but a lost girl and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

And then he was gone.

Blinking back tears, Emma slowly reached her hands up and unfastened the clasp on the necklace. She held it in her hand a moment and touched the green stones. Then she set the necklace down on the desk, wiped her eyes and cleared her throat, and went back downstairs.

She didn’t see Baelfire again. She didn’t expect to. She preoccupied herself as much as she could. Thankfully, there was always something that needed to be done in the tavern but on slow afternoons or at night after all the chairs had been put up and the money had been counted a second time because she was too distracted the first time and lost count, that’s when the memories creeped back in. Cruel and fresh and unbidden. She remembered the day he left and all the fights they had, yet those wounds were distant and didn’t hurt as much.

But it was the good moments. The love. The passion. Waking up beside him and falling asleep in his arms. The quiet laughter lovers share in the dark as they lay damp and sated. Those were the memories that were still sharp enough to sting as she lay alone again in those same sheets with the moonlight creeping in around the curtains.

As she lay there on yet another night, relieving those few months in her head, she realized how far she had fallen. How far she had wandered from the girl with a sharp tongue and a quick fist. Here in her room surrounded by sorrow and the remnants of a shattered love, Emma did not recognize the woman she had become.

Two weeks after Baelfire had walked out of her life, Emma was serving lunch at the tavern when a warm breeze on her back told her that the door had opened. Spring had arrived early that year and each time the door open, the breeze that followed filled Emma with a sense of hope and contentment.

Emma turned and saw two very official looking men flanking a third, who was clearly their superior, despite the fact that he was at least a head shorter than the two hulking figures. This third man had all the trappings of royalty. As Emma’s eyes roved over him, she saw the shining crest hanging from his decorated jacket. That crest could mean only one thing. The Sheriff of Nottingham had come for lunch.

Despite his short stature, the Sheriff exuded an aura of malevolence. Though Emma wanted nothing more than to leave the room, she walked forward and said, as pleasantly as she could, “What can I get you, Sheriff?”

Nottingham looking at her appraisingly. “Oh, I’m not staying for lunch, no. Though I’ve no doubt this is a…” Nottingham looked disparagingly around the shabby but clean inn before continuing, “a fine establishment, I’d prefer to dine elsewhere. No, I’m here on business.”

Emma’s mind was racing. The Inn was small and by no means wealthy but they made enough to survive.

“What sort of business?” Emma asked, “Surely we’re up to date on our taxes-”

Nottingham’s laugh was as high and weedy as his spoken voice. “Taxes? Good lord, girl no. I’m here for something much, much more severe. Do you know of a man by the name of Baelfire?”

It was as though someone had punched her in the gut. She had spent the last two weeks fighting not to think about him every moment of the day and now here he was, thrown in her face again.

“Yes,” Emma said hesitantly, “Yes, I know him. Or, I knew him. I… Is he okay? What happened to him?” she could hear the desperation in her own voice.

Nottingham’s sneered at her. “Your boyfriend has gotten himself in a world of trouble. He stole a nearly priceless heirloom from a decrepit old Lord who was nevertheless of sound enough mind to report the theft.”

At that moment, Emma realized that the heirloom he was searching for was still sitting in a drawer of her bureau upstairs. She knew this because she hid it there in the hopes that it would be easier to move on if she didn’t have to see it every day. Yet she hadn’t been able to get rid of it. She certainly regretted that now.

Nottingham seemed to know exactly what Emma didn’t say. “It was well known that Baelfire had spent the last few months in a room at this inn. I presume you stayed with him.”

“The room is mine.” For some reason, Emma felt that this was an important distinction to make. “I paid for it. He stayed there with me.”

“Well then certainly you know the way.” Nottingham said with a sneer, gesturing to the door that led upstairs.

Fighting a rising panic, Emma nodded and escorted the sheriff through the doors and up the stairs to her room. It was the law in their land that the Sheriff was permitted to enter and search any room in the kingdom. There was nothing she could do. Emma opened the door and stood aside, allowing the sheriff and his henchmen to enter first.

They began searching through her life with as little care as though they were sifting rotten potatoes from fresh. Despite her protestations, the sheriff’s henchman tossed aside her bedding and flipped over the mattress. They flipped through the pages of the few books she had and at last dumped out all of the bureau drawers onto the floor, her clothing and papers heaped in a small pile in the middle of the room. Nottingham, who had not lifted a finger during this process but simply stood on the side and watched with his arms folded, suddenly held out a hand and said “Stop.”

The henchmen dropped what they were holding and retreated to the side. Nottingham strode forward, swooped a hand into the pile and pulled out the necklace. The beautiful string of emerald stones that brought about the end of everything. Nottingham turned his face toward Emma, a taunting leer stretched across his ugly features.

“Well now, look at this.”

Emma felt that panic start rising again. “That’s not mine.” She said quickly. “That’s his… Baelfire’s. He brought it here.”

Nottingham giggled. “I have no doubt that that is true, child, however the fact remains that Baelfire is nowhere to be found and this stolen necklace is among your possessions.”

Emma shivered, though the room was quite warm.

“Now hold on-” Emma began.

But then Nottingham said quite calmly, “Seize her.”

As the henchmen drew near her a wonderful thing happened. Emma felt something stirring within her, something she had not felt in a very long time, not since before Baelfire walked through the door. She adjusted her stance and readied herself for the imminent fight. The henchman on her left reached her first and she didn’t wait before she began to pummel his face with her fists. The man seemed momentarily stunned. He had not expected a fight. The other henchman starting walking toward her again but before he could do more than get within arm’s reach of her, she started to lay into him as well.

Emma was a good fighter, but she was rusty. It had been so long since she had been in a proper fistfight and she was now fighting two very large men at the same time. They overpowered her quickly. With her arms and legs bound tight, they dragged her away.


	3. Robin Hood to the Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma was sure she was going to die in that prison. She had spent so long in there, the days and weeks and months began to blur together. 
> 
> Then a green-clad bandit wanders in, in search of another prison, but finds Emma instead.

Throughout the next seven months that she would spend in that prison, Emma watched many unfortunate souls pass through the cells around her. Most seemed to be guilty of little more than poor circumstance or doing what was necessary for survival. Emma had learned long ago not to become too attached to anyone, especially not after August and the people who filtered in an out of her life in that prison were no exception. She struggled to forget the names and faces of the people who sat beside her on the cold, damp earth, all just waiting for a miracle; for some break in the bleak nature of their lives. Emma forgot them all the moment the left- either for death or a brief release of freedom before their next arrest.

Until one day.

Her name was Sina. She had long, curly dark brown hair and her eyes somehow still held warmth, despite the hollow nature of her entire being. Emma was lying on the ground in something of a stupor when a guard opened her cell door. Before she could will herself to sit up, a young girl was tossed into her cell. The girl shrieked and hollered insults to the guard as he locked the door again, completely unperturbed, and retreated down the hall, whistling to himself as he went.

The girl clutched the bars as her breathing quieted once more. Then she ran a hand through her long hair and finally caught sight of Emma lying on the ground.

“Hi.” she couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen. Emma said nothing, but looked back up at the ceiling. The girl took her cue and sat with her back against the opposite wall. She did not speak for another minute. Then she spied the half-eaten food tray by Emma’s feet. Though the prisoners only received two small meals a day, Emma found that she often wasn’t hungry for her morning meal. By the time the evening food came, however, she was ravenous. Often devouring all that she was given before the guards had finished distributing the rest of the meals. However, it was still early in the day, and Emma was nauseous again.

“Can I have that?” the girl asked. Emma nodded without looking at her. The young girl dove on the food and began tearing the small chunk of bread apart. Emma turned away, the sight making her all the more nauseous. Once the girl had stopped eating, Emma felt it was safe enough to lie on her back again. The girl offered her a word of thanks and did not say anything else, for which Emma was grateful. There was silence in the cell for the rest of the day. Emma barely had the strength to sit up, but she could practically feel the young girl’s energy radiating from her side of their cell. Out of apparent deference to Emma, it seemed, the girl stayed silent.

That night, when the food trays came again, Emma ate everything at top speed before realizing that her new cellmate was watching her. Emma set the empty dish on the ground and leaned her back against the wall. The young girl walked over toward her. She held out her own dish. Half of the food still remained. “Here,” she said.

Emma narrowed her eyes.

“Here,” said the girl, more insistently.

After a pause, Emma took it. She waited. The girl did nothing. Then Emma began to eat the rest of the food as quickly as she had eaten her own.

“Thank you.” Emma said, when both dishes were empty. She hadn’t eaten that much in one sitting since before she was thrown in this cell. For a moment, she almost felt full. Though Emma felt no desire for company, she could tell that the girl wanted to talk. And she had just shared her food.

“What’s your name?” Emma asked.

“Sina.” the girl replied.

“What happened?”

Sina chewed on her nails for a moment. “I was caught hunting in Sherwood Forest.

“I didn’t realize that was a crime,” Emma said.

“It wasn’t,” Sina replied. “At least, not until a week ago. The Sheriff passed a new ordinance forbidding hunting anywhere within the Sherwood Forest. No one told me, though.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Though Emma hadn’t always live in Sherwood Forest, she had never heard of any law against hunting in those woods. It was common knowledge that nearly all of the peasants in the area hunted for their food. To ban such a practice would sentence many people to starvation.

When their food was tossed to them the following morning, Emma picked at hers but, as she was feeling nauseous again, gave the rest of her food to Sina, just as she had done the previous day. Sina thanked her gratefully and, just as before, gave Emma half of her food in return that evening. A week passed by with this unspoken agreement. Each morning, Emma gave half her portion to Sina. Each evening Sina returned the favor. There were some mornings when Emma was as ravenous as she had been the night before yet she still divided her meal without a word.

The other cells around them filled and emptied yet somehow, Emma and Sina remained. Though it went against her instincts, Emma began to grow close to her cell mate. Sina was such a lively, spirited girl that even a place such as a prison cell could not change her. Though Emma was at first resistant to her optimism, she eventually began to find it endearing. Sina was sure that she would not spend the rest of her life in that cell. She knew she was going to get out.

“How do you know?” Emma asked her.

“I just do,” Sina said.

Sina had an older brother whom she loved dearly. His name was Milosh and he had cared for Sina ever since their parents had died. Sina had only been three years old at the time. Emma felt tears behind her eyes as she told Sina about August. The two shared stories of their brief childhoods until, for the first time, laughter echoed off the walls. Emma felt an ease in her heart. For the first time in her young life, she felt as though maybe she had a friend.

Sina was sleeping soundly beside Emma that night when she heard approaching footsteps. From the sound of it, there was only one person approaching. Emma looked around. The cells around them were empty and Emma would have bet more money than she was worth that this was not going to be a daring rescue.

“Sina,” Emma said quietly, shaking her shoulder. Sina woke with a start.

“What?” came her panicked voice in the dark.

“Someone’s coming,” Emma whispered.

The two sat side by side as an armed guard came around the corner. The torch he was carrying sent sinister shadows along the walls and gave a more malevolent quality to his young face and slight build. As he fitted a key in the lock on the door, the two girls quickly got to their feet, Emma in front of Sina.

“What do you want?” Emma asked the guard.

“Relax,” came the guard’s bored voice, “I’m not here for you.”

“What do you want?” Emma repeated.

The guard swung the door open and advanced on them.

“Her,” he said, pointing at Sina.

“Why?” Emma demanded.

The man laughed at this. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. This was not a rescue mission. Emma made her decision in a fraction of a second. She kicked hard against his knee and the guard crumpled, hitting his head on the solid ground. He was stunned for only a moment before he started to get back to his feet. Emma swooped behind him and wrapped her arm tightly around his neck.

“Go!” Emma shouted at Sina, “Run!”

“But-” Sina protested.

“There’s no time!”

“I can’t leave you here!” Sina shouted.

“I’m not asking! Get out! Now! I can’t hold him much longer!” Sina still didn’t move. “GO!” Emma bellowed.

In a flash, Sina was gone. Emma had taken down many men with the same lean build as this guard, but she had also been malnourished for weeks. Already her arms began to shake and she couldn’t pull herself up on her feet. The guard sensed her waning strength and took advantage of it. He broke her grasp and stood once more before her, panting while Emma fell forward onto her hands and knees. The guard kicked out and Emma felt pain radiating from her ear. Again and again he kicked her head, her back. Emma felt sure her nose was broken and she could not see out of one eye. At last, the guard spit on her before turning and locking the gate back up.

“You better pray I don’t find that little wench.” he said. Through her swollen eye, Emma could just make out the retreating light of his torch. The cold, hard ground was soothing on her bruised and bloodied face.

Emma lost track of time after that. The cells around her filled and emptied as usual. After Sina, no one else escaped. All prisoners who came through these cells left the same way; with a short walk and a sharp drop. Some cried and pleaded. Some screamed in their sleep. Others stay silent.  
Yet somehow, through all of this, Emma remained in her cell. She felt certain, especially after her attack on the guard, that she would be the next to take the walk to the gallows yet as the days blurred into weeks, Emma remained in that cell. Occasionally another prisoner would end up in her cell with her, but Emma no longer bothered learning any of their names. In fact, she did not even speak to any of them until an older woman who had been caught helping a young boy escape gave her the most startling news of all.

“You’re pregnant, love,” The woman told her, “‘Bout four months along now, I’d say.”

Emma was stunned. All she knew about pregnancy was the often frighteningly incorrect versions of events passed down to her from the older children at the orphanage. The one time she plucked up the courage to ask the Sisters a question, she was shouted down and told to mop the entire first floor for her impertinence. She did not ask again. So there, in the middle of that jail cell, she finally received the information she had wanted nearly twelve years before.

It was a lot to take in.

Though she wouldn’t admit it to herself, Emma missed Sina. The young girl was the closest Emma had ever gotten to having a friend. Sitting there alone Emma, chided herself for actually growing close to someone. After all these years, she should have learned. She should have realized what would happen, what had happened every time she had started to depend on someone else. She thought of August. And, at last, of Baelfire.

Emma did not miss Baelfire as she thought she would. On the contrary, though she once thought she loved him, now Emma was simply livid. Not just at the man who had left her to take the fall for his crime, but at herself for actually believing that she had the slightest chance of love. Who was she, really, to think that she was able to have such a thing as that, when there was a lifetime of evidence to the contrary? She thought of whoever had given birth to her only to drop her on a doorstep at their first opportunity. She thought of August, her brother, who was ripped from her life, she thought of Sina and now of Him. Of the man whose child she now carried because she was foolish enough to fall into his trap.

Emma ran a hand down her belly now swollen in her seventh month and swore that never again would she fall for that. Never again would she believe that the love of a man would cure the loneliness of her existence.

Despite the evidence of her pregnancy, it all still felt quite surreal to her. Emma felt the flutters and kicks of the life inside her and felt no stirring in her heart, no joy at the impending arrival. She looked into her future and saw only uncertainty. She had no idea what would happen to her, but she was sure of one thing: her child would not grow up behind bars.

Before she could figure out her next step, Emma heard a muffled scream and a soft thump. She stood up, impeded by her belly, her heart racing in her chest. Though she was not afraid to fight, she was nevertheless in no condition to get into a brawl.

Emma stood at the ready, her heart pounding in her ears. Then, around the corner crept a man dressed in green with bow in hand, arrow loosely notched, and a quiver of additional arrows slung across his back. Though she had never seen this man before, though she did not know his name, she somehow knew that he was on her side. He moved through the shadows as quickly and skillfully as she used to as a child. He caught sight of her cell and looked around as though searching for someone else, however she was the only prisoner. Emma could read the disappointment on his face. She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows. The archer’s expression softened at once.

“Apologies, milady. I was simply looking for another prisoner.”

“Just me in here, sorry.” Emma replied dryly.

The man looked around again. She could see the concern in his furrowed brow. He looked back at her. Then he removed the arrow from his bow and added it to the quiver. “Allow me to introduce myself. Robin Hood.” He extended his hand through the bars. Emma reached out and shook it. He looked expectantly at her, clearly waiting for her to respond with her name. She stayed silent. Robin Hood smiled at her indulgently.

“Well, stranger, what brings you into this place.”

“The usual. Wrong place, wrong time.” Emma said.

“How long have you been down here?” Robin asked, looking at her more appraisingly.

“About four months. Or so I’ve been told.” Emma said, shifting under his gaze. Robin noticed her discomfort and quickly looked away. He examined the doors to her cell.

“Well, you’re in luck. I know someone who can help get you out of her. Provided you want to leave.”

“Yes.” Emma said eagerly. Robin smiled and instructed her to stand back and she obliged. He whistled quietly and another man appeared from down the shadowy hallway. This man was much larger than Robin, with a mop of curly brown hair and gentle eyes. Emma watched as he crouched down in front of the lock. Emma heard the clinking of metal and then with a click, the lock disengaged and the door swung open. Emma gaped.

“How… How did you do that?” Emma asked, amazed.

Robin put a hand on the man’s shoulders. “Little John has always been an accomplished locksmith. A skill that come in handy, as you can see.”

Emma nodded. In the distance they heard a shout. Robin looked toward the sound and then looked back at Emma with a sense of urgency in his face. “We really must be going.” He whispered. Emma hesitated.

“Why?” Emma asked, her arms folded once more.

“What?” Robin responded.

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because that’s what we do.” Robin answered simply.

Emma remained immobile. The yelling grew louder. The fighters were drawing closer. Robin looked toward the sound nervously and held out a hand.

“I’ll be happy to explain properly once we’ve gotten safely out of here but we really must be going.”

Emma was still deliberating when there came the loudest shout of all. Little John put a hand on Robin’s shoulder. Robin nodded. “I’m sorry, miss. We have to go.” And they turned to leave.

“Wait.” Emma made up her mind and quickly followed the relieved looking thieves back out of the prison.

Once outside of the walls, they broke into a run. Emma felt a rush of joy the likes of which she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. The fresh air danced around her, a breeze lifting her hair, filling her lungs and her soul with a renewed sense of contentment. However, That peace evaporated in moments. Robin and Little John were much faster than the pregnant Emma and quickly drew far ahead of her. Behind her, Emma could hear the shouts growing louder. It seemed her escape did not go undetected. Emma glanced up ahead to where her rescuers had stopped running, fear propelling her to move faster than she was able. She expected the thieves to leave her behind and was surprised when they both ran back and took her hands, pulling her along. Once they were safely hidden in the shadows of the trees, Emma sank on a fallen log, panting heavily and unconsciously rested a hand on her belly.

Robin’s eyes followed her hand. His eyes grew wide in shock. “My sincerest apologies, milady, I did not realize! Had I known, we certainly would not have insisted you run all that way.”

“We didn’t have much of a choice.” Emma panted, her heart rate slowing down.

“Unfortunately, we have little time to rest. They will be heading this way soon enough.”

Emma nodded and made to stand up. Robin was at her side in an instant. “Please, allow us.” Little John walked forward too. Once Emma realized what they had in mind she shook her head.

“No. Absolutely not.” She had already lost most of what little pride she had but this crossed the line. She would not consent to be carried around the woods like a dressed up bag of potatoes. There came another shout behind them, louder this time.

When Robin spoke, his voice was imploring, “please, Milady. They’re coming for us too. We have no more time to waste.” She recognized the desperation in his voice. And after all, the two men before her had already gone to great lengths just to free her from that prison. At last, she relented. Emma consented to let Little John lift her into his arms (which he did with surprising ease) and carry her as he and Robin ran.

Once it was determined that they had gained enough distance between them and the prison, Little John gently set Emma back on her feet. Emma straightened her skirts and thanked the two men again.

“Our camp isn’t much farther now,” Robin assured her, “It’s just over that ridge.”

Emma shook her head. Robin looked uncertainly at her. “I’m not coming with you.”

“Do you have somewhere else to go?” Little John asked. There was concern etched between his eyebrows.

Emma shrugged. “Not really, but I do better on my own. Thank you for all your help. Thank you for saving me.”

“But,” Robin protested, “You are in no state to travel alone, milady.”

“I’ll be fine.” Emma stumbled slightly as she turned to leave. Before she realised it, Robin was beside her. Gently, he took her hand in his.

“Please,” He said. “Please stay with us in our camp. Even just for a night. You need a proper meal and a full night’s sleep. What is more, I would be guilty of great dishonor if I let a young woman wander alone in the woods, especially one so far along in a pregnancy.”

Emma wanted to argue. She wanted to insist that she would be fine on her own. But she was hungry and so very tired. Slowly, she nodded. There was relief in Robin’s smile. He let go of her hand and patted her shoulder. 

Robin Hood and Little John slowly led the way up over the ridge. At one point, Little John looked as though he was going to offer to carry Emma again but thought better of it. Emma was grateful for that. She refused to be treated like a child. She had relented before only out of fear for their safety, and her own. To do so again would be a blow to what little pride she had left.

The camp was almost exactly what she had in mind. Hidden amongst the trees in the forest were a collection of nearly twenty small huts, all of various sizes, all the same shade of forest green. Many of the huts were nestled between trees or in the shadows of large boulders and nearly all were covered with brush; the simple camouflage enough to ensure that they were not immediately recognizable.

Men of all ages were hard at work; some were cooking, others were reinforcing the tents, still others seemed to be practicing hand to hand combat. There were only a few women and a handful of children. As Robin and Little John walked into camp, one of the littlest boys, who could not have been more than three, caught sight of them approaching. His face lit up and he dropped the stick he was holding.

“Papa! Papa!” His ringlet curls bounced with each step he took and he laughed as he ran. Robin crouched down and caught the toddler when he reached his father. Emma felt a flutter in her stomach and placed a hand on her belly. Then came a flutter in her heart. The toddler began to babble in his father’s arms, informing him of everything that happened while he was gone.

One of the women was approaching them now. Her beautiful, round face was haloed by long black hair that fell in waves past her shoulders. Her eyes were fierce and full of concern but her smile was warm. She kissed Robin, who was still holding the child in his arms.

“You were gone for longer than you said you’d be.” Emma could hear her concern under the irritation in her voice.

Robin smiled at her and kissed the side of her head. “Apologies, my love, but we made a friend on the journey back.” Robin nodded to Emma, who smiled awkwardly.

The woman moved forward and hugged her. She looked down at Emma’s belly in surprise.

“Regina,” She said.

“Emma,” the young girl responded.

At that moment, the little one in Robin’s arms said; “Papa, I’m hungry!”

“So am I,” Robin replied, smiling at his son, “And you know what, I think our new friend is as well.” He nodded at Emma, who tried to smile. 

They led her to an area surrounding a campfire. Emma felt lightheaded at the smell of the rabbits roasting on the fire. One of the merry men served her a heaping plate of roasted rabbit and a vegetable stew. Emma had never tasted anything so delicious in her life. It was only at that moment that she realized just how long it had been since she had eaten a proper meal. Once her plate was empty they gave her an additional helping of everything. When she had at last eaten her fill, Emma set the plate aside and stared contentedly in the fire. Regina, who had been eating beside her, smiled again.

“Feel better?” She asked.

“Much,” Emma said with a yawn, “Thank you.”

“It’s our pleasure. Most of us know what it’s like to be without food. And when you’re pregnant… well, there’s nothing quite like a good meal.”

Emma nodded and said nothing. She could tell that there was more Regina wanted to say, questions she wanted to ask, yet she stayed silent. Emma did not like the silence. There was an expectation for conversation. As Regina had not said anything, Emma felt it was her turn to start it.

“How did you meet Robin?” She asked, not really interested in the answer.

Regina smiled sweetly, her gaze distant. “My mother and I owned a mill. We used to deliver grain to the Duke of Nottingham. Ours was the only mill in the area that would deliver to him. He’s a brute. A vile snake of a man, but we were desperate. We needed the money. Then one day the Duke and I got into an… argument.”

Regina shot Emma a sly smile. “Well, I’ve never been one to hold my tongue. I told him what I truly thought of him, what we all thought of him, and he became violent.”

Emma’s eyes grew wide with concern. Regina placed a hand on hers, “I know how to hold my own in a fight. But that… altercation effectively ended our service with him. My mother was furious. Nottingham was our largest delivery. Without that income, the mill went under. My mother blamed me for ruining her and I blamed Nottingham. I was determined to make him pay for what he’d done to us. For all the years of humiliation and for costing us our livelihood. I intended to sneak back to his manor with a knife hidden in my sleeve. I was so focused on getting into his manor that I wasn’t watching where I was going. I wound up in a trap set by his guards but before they could reach me, Robin rode through, cut me free and I escaped on the back of his horse.”

Regina smiled at Robin, who was playing with his son. Her expression was so full of love that Emma felt almost embarrassed, as though she were trespassing on something secret. But then Regina turned once more to Emma and finished her story. “I hadn’t intended to fall in love with him. I meant to stay for a night, maybe two. But then we started talking. The more I got to know him, the more I saw him as more than just a thief. He’s a man of honor. A man who lives by a code. A man who was trying to raise his son alone.”

Emma looked from Regina to Robin and the little boy. “Oh, so he’s not-”

“Mine?” There was pain behind her smile, “No. His mother died in childbirth. I met Roland when he was still a baby.” Her face shone with love as she looked at the curly haired toddler. “I didn’t bring Roland into this world, but I am his mother.”

They lapsed into silence. Some time later, Robin joined them, carrying a very loud and very tired Roland in his arms. Regina stood and relieved Robin of the toddler, planting a kiss on the top of his curly head as she carried him off to their tent.

Robin sank down in Regina’s spot and picked up the tankard of ale he had been drinking earlier. He smiled at Emma.

“Did you get enough to eat?” He asked. Emma nodded. Robin fell silent and sat contentedly beside her. It was a far more comfortable silence than she was used to. He wasn’t prying for information, he wasn’t demanding her life story, he simply sat beside her and for some reason Emma was comforted by this.

“Why did you save me?” Emma asked him finally.

Robin set down his tankard. “It was the right thing to do.” He said simply. They were quiet for another minute or so when Emma realized she had another question for him.

“When you found me in that cell, you said you were looking for someone else.” Robin began to look uncomfortable. Emma pressed on, “Who was it?”

Robin was silent for so long that Emma worried she had offended him. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Her name is Sina.”

It was as though a hand had gripped Emma’s heart. “I know her.” she said quietly, staring at the ground in front of her.

Robin looked at her sharply. “What? How did you know her?”

“She was in there with me. Nottingham caught her hunting in the forest.”

“What happened to her?” Robin asked urgently.

“She’s safe,” Emma said at once. “At least, I think she is. She got out.”

“How?”

Emma cleared her throat. “I, well, a guard came for her. I attacked him and she got out.”

“You saved her life?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way.” Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t like the way he said that. He made her out to be some sort of hero. Emma was many things. “Hero” was not one of them. “How do you know Sina?” she asked.

Robin finally looked away from her. “I know her brother, Milosh. She’s been missing for some months now. He asked me to help try to find her.”

Emma felt panic grip at her heart. Sina had escaped months ago. How had she not reunited with her brother? Had something more happened to her? Emma could still hear the guard’s words in her head; You better pray I don’t find that little wench. What if the guard did find her? What if he- Emma couldn’t finish that thought. She and Robin were quiet for a few minutes.

“So, what about you Emma?” Robin asked, “How did you wind up in there?”

It was conversational, light. He was simply trying to change the topic by showing an interest in her but there was no demand. Emma knew she could refuse to answer, just as she had done before. Yet at that moment, she didn’t want to. Emma and Robin had a connection, strange as that was. Robin knew Sina. Or at least, knew of her. And he had shown her nothing but kindness.

“I trusted someone I shouldn’t have.” Emma said.

“Ah. Another thief?” Robin asked perceptively.

Emma was taken aback, “How did you know that?”

“The prison where you were held is reserved mainly for thieves and debtors. You don’t seem like either to me.”

Emma looked over at him. He was smiling kindly at her. She told her story, or at least the basic outline of her story. Though she did feel a sense of camaraderie with Robin, she felt no desire to delve deep into the details of her many misfortunes.

Some time later Regina emerged from her tent and joined Emma and Robin. They chatted quietly until Emma found herself fighting to keep her eyes open. Regina, as perceptive as her husband, stood at once and showed Emma to a spare hut they had waiting for her. It was small but friendly and the blankets looked warm. Emma bade her goodnight and was asleep before her head hit the pillow. 

Over the next few days, Emma observed them; Robin and Regina. The love between them was obvious. Emma watched Robin and thought about Baelfire and how different the two men were. Though Baelfire and Robin were both thieves, the similarities ended there. Robin didn’t hide anything from Regina, as far as Emma could tell. There were no secrets, no unpredictable outbursts. From her conversations with his wife, Emma could see that Regina always seemed to know where Robin was heading.

They shared everything. Sometimes Robin would be the one heading out with the Merry Men while Regina stayed with Roland, but not always. In every conversation, Robin listened to Regina and she hid nothing from him. Even when they did fight, there would be a peace between them in the end. A renewed understanding. They were a team; a cohesive unit. A partnership. Emma watched it play out before her and realized that she had never experienced anything like that before. She thought back to her time with Baelfire, to the secrets and the pain and marvelled at just how different life could be.

She watched how Regina cared for Roland. She healed every cut, soothed every worry. Regina was a mother in every sense of the word. Emma tried to imagine what it would be like after her baby was born. She tried to imagine healing wounds and preparing meals and a million other things. Yet try as she might she just couldn’t see it. Now that she saw a true example of what a mother was, Emma did not believe she could emulate it.


	4. Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma reaches full term in her pregnancy and wrestles with the realization that she cannot be a mother. Somehow, she finds herself relying again on the company of strangers, but Emma knows better. These are not the first people who have shown her kindness lately. She knows her luck is bound to run out soon. The question is, can she run first?

For three weeks she wrestled with this knowledge. She tried to bargain with herself, convince herself that she was simply panicking. That it was all just nerves, all in her head and once it- the baby- was born, she would feel differently. But whenever she saw Regina with Roland, or any of the other women with their small children, the more she saw motherhood as it should be, Emma knew in her heart that this wasn’t right. She couldn’t be a mother. Ever since learning she was pregnant, she didn’t dream of the day when the baby would arrive. She didn’t treasure every small flutter in her belly. Though she now knew what it looked like to love someone, Emma didn’t know how to put that knowledge into practice. Emma couldn’t subject the little life growing inside her to a world where they didn’t know they were loved.

The air was getting colder. Winter was drawing nearer. Emma felt an itch in her bones, a longing to run. That itch propelled her to rise out of her bed when the birds first started singing, well before the rise of the sun. She layered herself down with the garments they had given her, and a guilty twinge in her heart mingled with the restlessness of her limbs. Robin, Regina all all the Merry Men had wrapped their kindness around her; the pregnant stranger they never had to rescue. As repayment for their kindness, Emma did the only thing she knew how to do. She ran.

Emma swept silently from the hut they had given to her, (another kindness). She was slowed slightly by the added weight of the extra cloaks and the burden of her belly. Emma walked up over the ridge, looking back once more when she reached the top and in that moment she saw him. Little John had just exited his own tent, bow in hand, clearly heading out for a morning hunt. He stopped when he saw her, yet he said nothing. He did not call her down or beg her to stay. He simply watched her steadily. For a moment she thought of raising a hand in farewell. Instead she gathered her skirts about her and walked down the other side of the hill, out of sight of the camp.

Once the valley and its inhabitants were securely behind her, Emma admitted to herself that she did not think this all the way through. As usual, her desire to escape had encompassed rational thought. She had no idea where she was planning to go and her feet were protesting already. Sinking slowly on a fallen log beside a dirt road, Emma wiped her brow and thought. 

Her stomach started to rumble. She took out the only food she had- a small scrap of bread leftover from dinner the night before. As she chewed slowly and attempted to savor it, wondering where her next meal would come from, she heard the sounds of wheels on the road. Thinking it might be Nottingham or his men, Emma got up as quickly as she could and hobbled over behind a nearby tree. From her vantage point she saw a horse drawn cart come around the corner and meander slowly down the road toward her. A man who looked about ten years older than her was seated at the reins. Behind him a woman sat low in the cart, her face shaded by a large hat.

Emma could tell even from a distance that these people posed no threat to her. She emerged from her hiding place and continued on her way down the road, though she was aware of the cart drawing ever nearer. She knew, before turning around, that they had slowed down as they approached. Apprehensively, Emma turned to face the cart, ready to fight if necessary but knowing she could not do much while impeded by her belly.

The man tipped his wool cap toward her. “Good morning,” he said, “you’re out awfully early.”

Emma nodded and said nothing. The man tried again. “It’s not safe to be travelling these roads alone,” he scanning the trees around them.

“I can take care of myself.” Emma folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.

The man nodded, a small smirk playing on his face. “I have no doubt about that.” he paused. Then he said, “my wife and I are passing through the next town. I’d be happy to give you a ride.” His wife smiled kindly at her and nodded.

Emma wanted to refuse. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She opened her mouth to tell him as much but then her stomach rumbled. Then she remembered her feet, which were still aching, and her body felt heavier by the moment. And besides, it wasn’t as though she had any other options.

“A ride. Nothing more.” Emma said finally, approaching the cart.

“Of course.” He replied at once. Then the man hopped down from his spot at the reins and held out a hand to help her into the cart. Emma had lost a considerable amount of her equilibrium as the weeks had passed and, though she did not say this, she was grateful for the assistance.

“I’m John, by the way. And that’s my wife, Evangeline.”

“Emma.”

Once she had settled down on a low crate across from the woman, John climbed back up and took the reins again. Evangeline smiled at her again before returning to the task in her lap. In one hand she held a needle and thread, in her other she held a rather lovely blue dress.

“You’re a seamstress?” Emma asked.

Evangeline laughed lightly. “Oh heavens, no. John and I are merchants. We’ve just been to the Enchanted Forest. They have wonderful faires during the warm months and that’s when we sell most of our wares but the air is cooling and the faires have all closed for the winter.”

Emma stiffened at the word “merchants” and heard very little of the rest of her speech. Merchants. She should have known better than to accept a ride from them. Although she had had very few interactions with merchants in the years since leaving the orphanage, the name still made her blood boil. Regardless of how wonderful they seemed, Emma hated John and Evangeline on principle.

Evangeline seemed to correctly interpret Emma’s silence. She put her needle down. “Have I upset you, child? I can assure you, that was not my intention.”

There was so much sincerity in Evangeline’s voice that for a fraction of a moment Emma’s resolve shook. She redoubled her effort. “I’ve met my share of merchants.” Evangeline visibly recoiled at the bite in her voice.

“I take it they were not positive experiences?”

“No.” Emma said shortly, glaring at her.

Evangeline moved to pick up her sewing again and set it back down. “I don’t know what happened to you, I’m sure you have good reason to be angry, but not all merchants are the same, you know. John and I have done you no wrong. There’s no reason for you to take that anger out on us.” Her voice rang with an authority Emma couldn’t help but respect. At once she began to feel foolish, as though she was a small child caught in a wrong doing.

Emma took a deep breath and her voice softened. “I’m sorry.” She said, trying to match Evangeline’s sincerity.

Evangeline picked up her sewing once more and the corners of her mouth twitched up again. They rode in comfortable silence for a while until a particularly large bump of the cart rocked Emma and the baby in her belly kicked her back in response. She put a hand on her back and groaned, closing her eyes momentarily. When she opened them, she saw Evangeline gaping slightly at her.

“You’re pregnant.” She stated quietly.

Emma nodded, watching her. Evangeline’s lip trembled very slightly. She looked as though she wanted to say something more but instead she cleared her throat and turned back to her sewing. 

They rode for hours. Emma’s back was growing sore and her left knee was throbbing. She tried to shift her weight, tried not to stay too still for too long but her body was worn and tired. Despite her discomfort, she kept quiet. The last thing she wanted to do was call attention to her own aches and pains. Not out of fear that she would seem ungrateful, necessarily, but more because John and Evangeline already knew too much about her. She didn’t want to give more of herself away.

Another hour or so after they had passed through that second town, John finally called back to Emma and told her that they were approaching their home. Emma let out a small groan in relief. Evangeline’s face darkened with concern and Emma averted her eyes, staring instead in front of the cart. The horse slowed to a stop outside a small thatched cottage at the edge of the town. John hopped down and secured the horse before moving around the cart so that he was standing beside Emma. Emma shifted her weight and clumsily got to her knees, which were still throbbing and her arms were shaking slightly. She gripped the edge of the cart for support and attempted to lift her leg up. It took her a few attempts, but she managed to swing her leg out of the cart. John stood at the ready; a spotter waiting for a less than graceful gymnast to descend from the top of a high beam. Emma slowly swung both legs out and jumped the short distance the the ground. Her knee exploded in pain and she stumbled into John, trying to balance on her right leg alone. With surprising strength, John managed not to drop her. It was only then that Emma realized Evangeline was standing on her other side, gripping her arm and shoulder.

Emma took a deep breath and steadied herself. Gingerly, she put her left leg down and tried to put her weight on it. It held, but barely. Limping significantly, Emma took a few slow steps. The pain remained yet it felt so much better to move than it did to sit in the back of the cramped cart. Emma looked quickly over at Evangeline and saw a trace of anger under her concern. It was clear that, though they barely knew Emma, Evangeline did not like seeing her in pain.

Together, the three of them slowly made their way into the house. Once Emma was settled in a sturdy chair, the couple got to work. John exited once more to return the horse to his small stable and bring in the rest of their supplies. Evangeline brought out a jar of some poultice and spread some on a cloth. Then she began to bring out various jars of herbs, which she sprinkled on top of the poultice before wrapping it in the cloth and placing it carefully Emma’s knee. Emma responded with a word of thanks. Evangeline gave her a lingering, searching look as though she was going to ask the young girl a question, before returning to the basin and stove in the corner.

As Evangeline busied herself assembling bread and dried meats on a plate, Emma was finally able to see her hostess properly for the first time. Free of her hat, Emma could see that the deep brown of her eyes was a few shades lighter than that of her shoulder length, curly black hair. When Evangeline reached up to grab a cup off of the top shelf, her smock lifted just enough for Emma to see white stretch marks on the small stripe of exposed dark skin on her stomach. With a small shock, Emma looked away. Then, covertly, her eyes wandered back to her hostess as she began to notice aspects of this women that she hadn’t before. The hollow sadness in her warm brown eyes and her affected gait. The heaviness of her breasts. The same heaviness that currently plagued Emma. Evangeline’s tears during their trip suddenly made sense. For a fleeting moment, Emma wanted to say something, but remained silent. Some things were better left unsaid.

John returned from the stables and kissed his wife on the forehead. Evangeline placed a soft hand on his cheek and her smile seemed warmer than Emma had yet seen. Emma looked away. Again she had the feeling that she was intruding on something intimate. The love in their eyes was evident from where she sat on the opposite side of the room. Though inherently Emma knew that she was welcomed there, she felt like she was intruding on their lives. Emma now felt that she knew too much about this couple. She didn’t want to know them. She didn’t want their kindness, their sad stories. That old itch began to return like a long forgotten friend. The urge to run. Yet in her current physical condition there was no way she’d be able to get far.

Once the food had been laid out, Evangeline turned to Emma.

“Does your knee feel any better?” she asked solicitously.

Emma picked up the damp cloth and lifted her leg from where it rested. Then she bent her leg back and forth, and sighed, “Much better. Thank you.” Despite her desire to run, Emma tried to smile, she tried to show her appreciation for the ones who took her in when they didn’t have to. She tried to show the gratitude she should have shown Robin and Regina. Throughout all her years of wandering she had grown accustomed to taking care of herself without relying on the kindness of others. Yet in the last month, that very kindness had saved her at least twice. Those odds made Emma nervous. If there was one things she knew, it was that she was not a fortunately person. This string of luck was eventually bound to run out.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Emma felt her body growing heavier by the minute. Not only did she physically feel as though she had swallowed a cannon ball, but with each passing day she grew nearer and nearer to motherhood and every time that thought crossed her mind, she had to fight a rising panic.

It started in the middle of the night. A slight cramp woke her from a disturbed dream that she couldn’t quite interpret. There, in the dark, it took her a minute to process the sensation. It was as though someone was squeezing her lower abdomen. The sensation passed but she did not lay back down. As she sat quietly in the dark, listening and waiting, Emma felt the baby moving and placed a hand on her belly.

She sat there, listening to the quiet sounds of snoring from the other room where John and Evangeline slept. Emma concentrated on breathing and waited anxiously. It was almost a relief when she felt another fluttering cramp, this one stronger than before. After that one passed, she tried to decide the best course of action. Evangeline had told her of a midwife who lived in the village, not too far from their house. She had even pointed out the woman’s cottage when they had gone walking through town. Emma got up and wrapped her cloak around her, checking that the letter she had written earlier was still in her pocket. As quietly as she could, she slipped from the house, shutting the wooden door behind her.

The wind whipped her hair into her face and sent her cloak streaming behind her. Frantically, she grabbed at the edges and wrapped them more firmly around herself. By this point, however, her belly had grown too big for the cloak to cover her completely. Emma shivered as the air passed around her and slowly made her way to the house that Evangeline had pointed out to her, stopping every so often to allow another cramp to overtake her.

At last she hobbled up to the doorstep and knocked. Almost at once there came the faint glow of candlelight from the other side of the windows. Moments later, the door opened and a middle aged woman stood there in a dressing gown and cap. Her confused expression gave way to one of urgency as she took in the sight of Emma; one hand clutching the door frame and the other clutching her protruding stomach. The woman stepped aside at once and allowed Emma to pass into her home.

Her name was Rose. Emma learned that she had been the midwife in this town for nearly two decades. Rose showed her to the birthing room and waved her hand toward the fire under a large copper kettle. At once it began to burn strong and hot. She then went about assembling a variety of instruments.

“You… you have magic.” Emma said quietly, doubled over as another contraction hit.

“Aye, miss. I do.” Rose said, smiling kindly. She looked at Emma appraisingly, watching as she moved through the contraction and opened her eyes again.

Emma had heard about magic, and about those who wielded it. Horror stories about witches and evil queens were commonplace in the orphanage. Though objectively, Emma knew she ought to feel afraid for her life in the presence of a witch, Emma instinctively knew that this woman was benign. Everything about her presence and her touch suggested warmth and even love. Despite her pain, despite the fear of what was coming, Emma felt safe there.

Through Rose’s carefully guided instruction, Emma made it through one contraction after the other. Rose gave her a light, comfortable gown to wear in exchange for the heavy winter clothing she had worn for the last few weeks. Hours passed and slowly the contractions grew closer and closer together. Emma was vaguely aware of the sunrise, of birds chirping and the sleepy town rising for another day. She was vaguely aware of a knock on the door at one point. Rose spoke in low voices with whoever was on her doorstep. Emma thought the voice sounded familiar but was too far into her labor to make sense of much else.

At last, as the daylight began to shift and fade again, Emma felt a change. A feeling of bearing down somewhere deep within her center. Again, Rose guided her, instructed her how to push with the contractions and when to rest. Emma’s blonde hair was dark and damp. Beads of sweat dripped down her face and joined the tears of relief and fear and joy on her flushed cheeks. Rose dabbed her face with cool washcloths and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Beautiful, Emma. You’re almost done, sweetheart.” Rose announced that she could see the baby’s head. Tears began to fall in earnest as Emma took a deep breath felt her entire body shake as she gave an almighty push.

“That’s it. The head is out. One more push, Emma. One more.”

Emma was exhausted. Her limbs were shaking and tears continued to pour down her face. She felt as though she had nothing left in her to give. Then from somewhere inside her, she felt her body tap into a reserve of strength she had never known before.

The fire in the corner surged suddenly higher. From the far side of the room, a stack of papers took flight and began to swirl high in the air. A ceramic bowl nearby fell from its pitch as though an invisible hand knocked it over and shattered on the floor, water spilling everywhere. With one hand still attending to Emma, Rose waved her other through the air and the room became still once more. The bowl reformed and resumed its spot on the table. The water on the floor vanished.

Rose looked up at Emma, almost warily.

“Why did you do that?” Emma asked, panting.

“I didn’t.” Rose said quietly. “That wasn’t me.”

“Then who-”

“Later, Emma. One more push. Your baby is almost here.”

With every last ounce she had left in her, Emma pushed again. She felt a release. Rose gasped with joy as a high pitched cry filled the small room. Emma caught sight of the squirming pink infant and turned away, staring out the window. In the rapidly fading daylight, Emma could see that it was snowing.

The first snow of the year.

Rose walked toward her.

“Emma, it’s a boy. You have a son.” Emma could sense rather than see Rose holding the tiny infant out toward her. She didn’t turn around. She couldn’t look.

Shaking her head, she said. “No. I can’t. I can’t be a mom.”

“Emma-” Rose began quietly, but Emma wasn’t listening. She reached over the side of her bed. In the pocket of one of her skirts was the note she had written the night before. In the dim candlelight, Emma could just make out her own handwriting; “John and Evangeline.” She held this out to Rose, still unable to look at her or the baby. She could feel a torrential sob building behind her heart, but she kept it at bay.

“Here. Please. Take him.” Emma said in a strangled voice, “Give them this note. It… I… I can’t.”

Rose took the note. Emma could hear her unfold the paper.

“Oh.” She said so quietly. Without another word, Rose moved to the other room. Emma could hear her fastening cloaks and stomping into heavy boots. The infant was still crying. Rose made shushing noises. Tears fell harder, but Emma managed to stifle the sob. The door opened. A flurry of snow dusted the straw mat. Then the door closed again. Only then did Emma bury her face in her pillow and wail.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

When there came a knock at her door the day after Emma left, Evangeline set aside the dough she had been kneading, wiped her hands as thoroughly as possible and opened her front door. There, as she expected, was Rose. But she wasn’t alone.

Evangeline looked down at the small bundle in Rose’s arm and stood aside quickly, ushering them in from the cold.


	5. One Year Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma leaves her past in that small little town and does what she can to get by after that. While working at another tavern, she finds herself reunited with the one person she fought for years to find, and he offers her a life she never thought possible.

“Oi! Love! I didn’t ask for this.” A rude and red-faced patron yelled at her from the opposite side of the tavern.

“Yeah? Well, it’s all we’ve got.” Emma hollered back as she refilled a tankard and grabbed an empty plate from another satisfied patron and walked back to the kitchen. As she passed a particularly rowdy table, a large, hairy man pinched her behind. Quick as a flash, Emma set down what she was carrying and spun around, socking him right in the face.

The man was not expecting a retaliation. He went flying out of his chair as twelve months of pent up rage and sorrow raised a bruise around his eye. He scrambled to his feet as Emma drew her arm back again.

There was fire in her eyes as she shrieked “Try it again, you bastard! I dare you.”

The tavern went silent. Emma felt the sting of tears behind her eyes and she fought them off. The hairy man wiped a small trickle of blood from his nose and straightened his jacket, on which he had spilled a great deal of food and drink. He looked at her murderously but he straightened up as best as he could and stalked out the door.

“SWAN!” Hollered her boss from the kitchen. Rage still shook her limbs as she picked up the plate and the ale jug once more and headed toward the sound of the summons.

She elbowed open the door and sat down the dishes as the cook started in on her.

“Just what the hell was that?” Simon hollered. Unlike Jacob, this cook was tall, weedy and did not look at all intimidating. However, Emma knew to tread carefully around him. Her first night at this job she saw him fillet a piece of cod so expertly that the knife had come free of the meat before he finished saying his name.

Emma crossed her arms in front of her. “I gave a drunken slob what was coming to him.”

“You hit a patron!”

“He was groping me!” Emma shouted indignantly.

“I don’t care!” Simon hollered back. “That’s the third brawl you’ve gotten into this week.”

“It wasn’t a brawl.” Emma countered.

“It doesn’t matter!” Simon hollered. “I can’t have a barmaid who attacks patrons when they get rowdy. It’s bad for business. Get out, Swan. You’re done.”

Emma felt like she had just been slapped. She was the one who had been assaulted and now she had to be the one to pay for it? Simon reached in his pocket and slammed a few coins on the table without looking at her; the remnants of that shift’s pay. Emma’s fingers fumbled furiously as she undid the knot in the back of her apron, threw it down on the table, and scooped up the coins. Then she grabbed her cloak and marched out of the room, slamming the kitchen door behind her.

Emma crossed to the front door in two strides and threw it open, embracing the cold night air after the stuffy heat of the tavern. She walked quickly down the side of the building just as someone was coming around the corner toward her. Emma was too engrossed in her own rage to notice where she was going.

“Watch it!” Emma hollered without looking to see who she’d hit. She pulled her cloak tighter around her and kept walking.

“Emma?”

Emma froze. Though she hadn’t heard it in over ten years, she knew that voice.

She turned slowly. He had the same grey blue eyes, the same curly brown hair. The same jagged scar on his forehead from the day the Sisters caught him stealing food from the kitchen. But he looked older. So much older. A lifetime had passed and as he stood before her she saw her own shock and wonderment staring back at her.

All sense of rage forgotten, Emma walked slowly toward him on shaking limbs. Long ago, she had resigned herself to the fact that she would never see her brother again and now here he was before her.. She stood there, momentarily immobile. Then she slowly raised a hand and placed it on his cheek. He was real. He was definitely, definitely real.

“August?” She asked in almost a whisper, hardly daring to believe it. August’s face broke into a wide smile. Emma nearly laughed as she threw her arms around her brother and held on to him as tightly as she could. She felt his arms close tight around her and she sobbed. Her brain could not process what was happening. She didn’t know how he was here, how he found her, where he had been all of these years but at that moment she didn’t care. All that mattered was the somehow the impossible had happened. Somehow, August had found her again. They held each other as the minutes passed. Then Emma stepped slightly back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. August held her face in his hands.

“It’s you. It’s really you.” August said, laughing. Emma laughed with him and hugged him again.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“You look so different.” August said over dinner that night. Emma had led him to another tavern beside the one from which she had just been unceremoniously tossed. Over a dinner of chicken and an unidentifiable vegetable dish, they each relayed the tales of their lives apart.

August had been sold to a fisherman and his wife who already had six children. His adolescence was marked only by how many fish he could skillfully gut in a day, how many buckets he could carry on his own. Yet in that time, he learned all there was to know about not just fishing, but all other marine skills. High among them, sailing. When he was sixteen, he frequently spent his evenings at the local tavern that had been known to turn a blind eye to young lads whose voices cracked when they ordered ale.

It was one such night when a group of pirates rolled in. August had never seen pirates before. He had heard plenty of stories of them from the local fishermen, stories full of dire warnings and tales of horror, but never had he seen them up close. August was deep into his second pint and watched them, transfixed, a rather sluggish expression on his face. At sixteen, he was by no means a lightweight, yet still he was having trouble looking away.

One of the pirates who was clearly low on the chain of command fetched drinks for the others. When he returned to the table his eye caught August’s, who looked away quickly and took another swig from his tankard, spilling some ale down his shirt in his haste. The pirate set the glasses down on the table and walked to where the young man was sitting. August turned away slightly, eager to avoid eye contact.

“Never seen a pirate before, have you boy?” the man asked.

August looked quickly at the pirate and noticed a long, jagged gash running down the length of his cheek. His left eye looked rather bloodshot and his right, in contrast, was oddly bright. He had matted mass of brown hair on the top of his head and his arms bore more scars of past battles. August shook his head in response and looked away quickly. The pirate laughed and extended the hand that was not currently clutching a tankard. August leaned forward and had his hand crushed by the burly man sitting across from him. The man’s hands were rough and calloused and it was only then that August noticed his pinky finger was missing.

“Name’s Josiah Somes. Folks call me “Sy.” The pirate laughed again. August took his hand back and said nothing. He was watching Sy now, noticing those things he hadn’t before. Like the way Sy had a slight whistle in his voice as he said his name, and how we tended to lean his whole body to the right when he spoke. Sy raised his tankard and drained half of it.

“What’s your name, son?” Sy asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

August debated. He could give the pirate a fake name. He could give him a fake story. But, he reasoned, what would be the point? It’s not like he was anyone who mattered. What would be the harm of telling Sy the truth?

“August.” the young man said, taking another sip from his tankard. Sy nodded and smiled.

“Why you out here, August?”

In response, August lifted his tankard. Sy chuckled.

“Aye. Ain’t that why we all here? But I didn’t just mean this tavern. Why are you stuck in this godforsaken port?” August shrugged. Sy continued, “I mean, sure it’s nice to look at when you sail by but there’s nothing here. Most sailors I know wouldn’t be caught here for all the money in the realm. Not that there ever is any money here anyway. Suppose that’s the point, innit?” Sy laughed and drained the rest of his tankard.

“Suppose most sailors you travel ‘round with aren’t here to take in the sights.” August didn’t mean to sound so accusatory. Sy stopped smiling.

“A good sailor knows an opportunity when he sees one. A smart sailor takes advantage of it.” Sy began to look more critically at August. “You’ve got the marks of a fine sailor yourself, lad.” he said appraisingly.

August couldn’t help but feel bolstered by Sy’s words. Though he had never really wanted to be a sailor, Sy’s approval had left him with an odd feeling. It wasn’t happiness, exactly. He didn’t feel joy. It was something different. Something more. He felt worthy. As though he mattered. It was a feeling that he had not experienced before. 

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

August bought drinks, Emma flipped a coin in his direction and he pocketed it with a smile. It was as though no time had passed, even though everything had changed.

“How did you know where I was?” Emma asked as August took a sip of his ale.

“I… I didn’t.” August answered, still looking as bewildered as she felt. “I had just stopped at the port in town and I was about to stop in for a drink. I wasn’t sure that it was you until you crashed into me.”

“But what are you doing here?” she asked.

August took another swig of ale and watched her for a moment before answering, “A few years back some… sailors recruited me. I’ve been working on their ship ever since.”

Emma didn’t need her uncanny ability for detecting when people were lying to her to know that August was hiding something. Even though she hadn’t seen him for nearly half of her life, she knew her brother well.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Emma asked, staring into his eyes. August shifted rather guiltily in his seat and cleared his throat.

“They’re pirates, Emma.” he said. “I… I’m a pirate.”

Emma was shocked, in spite of herself. It wasn’t as though she had never known a pirate before. They were common these days, especially at the tavern from which she was just dismissed. But the idea that August counted himself among their number sent her reeling. She recovered quickly.

“Oh,” Emma said, “How did that happen?”

August briefly recounted his conversation with Sy and how he had spent almost the last ten years of his life working with this same crew. How they had become something of family to him. The word struck Emma like a physical blow. A family. He had a family. Or something like one. If he had a family, what was she to him, then? Emma nodded and smiled as August continued to tell her about his crew. She watched the subtle changes in his features as he spoke. The way his eyes lit up, almost dispelling the shadows that rested underneath them. August began to tell her elaborate stories of the many close calls and triumphs his crew had faced. He laughed easily as Emma’s heart silently broke. She realized that he was here with her again but he wasn’t hers. Not anymore. Objectively, she was aware of how much time had passed since he was taken from her but it wasn’t until that moment that she realized the full weight of his absence. He had lived an entire lifetime since they were children. A happy lifetime. Without her. Over the years, Emma had become rather adept at hiding her pain. However, August also knew her better than anyone.

Her brother took another swig of ale and set the tankard down slowly. “Emma, are you alright?” He asked, watching her closely.

“Of course.” Emma’s attempt at airiness fell rather flat. “I’m just glad to know you’re happy.”

August was still watching her. “Emma-”

“It’s getting late.” Emma said abruptly, standing up and pulling her cloak around her once more. “You should probably start heading back. Your crew will probably be looking for you soon.” Without waiting for a response, Emma turned and bolted out the door. She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes but she cleared her throat and looked upward, determined not to let them fall. She walked faster, feeling the anger building in her heart.

Emma heard August running behind her but did not slow down. Nor did she turn around to face him. She was nearly running now, trying to leave August in her past where he belonged.

“Emma!” he called. He was drawing closer. She still didn’t turn around. She felt his hand on her shoulder. Deftly, he spun her around so that she was looking once more into his eyes. Emma crossed her arms and glared at him.

“What?” she demanded angrily.

“What the hell was that about?” August asked, gesturing to the tavern behind them.

Emma didn’t say anything . She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be having this fight.

“Nothing.” Emma didn’t even convince herself. “Look, I’m just tired. Can we meet up tomorrow? It’s been a long day.”

August continued to watch her. Though Emma had spent many years constructing and fortifying her walls, August was the only one who had ever been able to see past them.

Emma stood at the ready, waiting for the next attack, preparing her defenses, when August did the last thing she expected; he walked forward and folded her into his arms. Never in her life had she been held like this. There was love and warmth and safety in his arms. August was back. Her brother had found her again.

He softly whispered her name and Emma scowled, closing her eyes tight against the sob that was threatening to burst from her. She clasped her arms tight around him and began to shake with the effort to keep herself together.

“Emma, I’m sorry.” August said, his arms tightening around her. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you. I should have come back for you. I should have tried to find you.”

“I… I ” her voice was constrained. It was all she could do not to sob and then, in an instant, every sorrow she had felt during her twelve long years apart from her brother began to pour out of her. She sobbed loudly into the shoulder of his jacket and August stroked her hair, whispering words of comfort and regret. The two of them stood in the middle of that snowy street, clutching each other and weeping for the lives they lost the day August was taken from the orphanage. The day he was taken from her.

They stood together so long that snow started to accumulate on their shoulders. At last, Emma quieted and pulled away from him, the front of his cloak damp and his own eyes more red than usual.

Emma cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. She was far too exhausted by this point to feel remotely ashamed. She felt empty and yet also rather free. A weight had been lifted. She looped her arm around August’s waist and walked with him back to her room. After assuring him many times that she would be fine on her own tonight and agreeing again that yes, she would meet him tomorrow morning, Emma hugged her brother again and headed down the stairs into the cellar room she had been letting. A small, thin cot took up half of the space. Emma collapsed upon it, still fully dressed, and pulled the thin blanket around herself. She was asleep in minutes.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The next day, as promised, August met her in the center of town. She shook off her momentary embarrassment as she remembered the way she had sobbed into his shoulder the day before and hugged him tightly again.

They walked for most of the morning. As Emma no longer had a job, there was nowhere she needed to be. Throughout the morning they traded tales, catching up on everything that had happened in the last twelve years. Well, almost everything.

“You seem so different,” he told her as they watched a mother push a heavily laden cart, her child walking next to her. Emma tore her eyes away from them and saw August watching her intently.

“A lot has changed since we last saw each other.” Emma said vaguely.

“Yes,” August conceded, “but there’s something more. The Emma I knew had a carefree spirit and a sharp wit. You seem more somber now. You’re quiet.”

Emma could still sense the woman walking in her periphery vision and kept her eyes averted, but it was difficult. She searched rapidly for a satisfactory answer to his question. She didn’t have to think long.

“I… was fired yesterday, actually. Right before I ran into you.” Emma looked up at August. His eyes were full of sympathy and concern. This only increased her guilt. Though it was perfectly true that she had been fired, the truth was that she had changed long before than. After all their hours of conversation, there were still some things she did not tell him. There were some things she couldn’t bring herself to say, not even to herself. She had not uttered His name since the day she went to prison for his crimes. She did not tell him about Rose, about all that had happened in her small house in that little town.

“I’m sorry.” August said sincerely.

“I’ll be fine.” Emma said gruffly. “It’s not the first time.”

August was quiet for a while after that. Emma couldn’t tell what he was thinking and she worried that she had somehow said too much. Then she worried that she hadn’t said enough. No wonder August was so concerned. Emma was not the girl she used to be at all. The Emma that August knew was never this worried about what others thought of her. That Emma was strong and fearless. Walking beside August now, Emma found she missed that version of herself.

“So, when do you need to head back to your crew?” Emma changed the topic in the hopes that August wouldn’t ask her any more questions. Some things belonged in the past.

“Soon.” August said. Emma’s heart sank at the thought of saying goodbye again already. Having her brother beside her again had healed some unknown broken part of herself. Emma began to feel angry at herself. Of course he had to leave again. Why had she expected anything else? August furrowed his brow and bit his lip. He wasn’t looking at Emma but she didn’t need to see his eyes to know her brother was fighting with himself about something.

“August, what is it?” she asked.

August was quiet for a few more moments. Then he took a deep breath and turned to face Emma. She was surprised to see that old mischievous glint in his eye. His smile was playful.

“I think I have the job for you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early one morning Snow White, the Queen of the Enchanted Forest, slips out of bed and slips into the forest for a morning hunt and stumbles upon the last thing she'd ever expect to find. 
> 
> Years later, Prince Henry grapples with the truth about his heritage.

Snow White woke with the birds. She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her husband and assembled her supplies in the near darkness of the room. Her feet barely made a sound as she padded down the long corridors and flew down the stairs. The early morning air was warm with the scent of spring. Snow White smiled. The waterfowl would be returning to the area. She could hear them calling to each other in the distance. Joy and something like hope carried her onward. She had waited all winter for this day. Hunting season had finally begun.

The briars and thorns that populated the outskirts of the marshlands tugged at her hair and embedded themselves in her clothes. She didn’t mind. It was part of the hunt. A small price to pay for the game she brought home.

Her morning progressed well. To each animal she successfully caught, Snow White said a quick “thank you,” acknowledging the life that existed and accepting the gift of the meal they would provide. By mid-morning, Snow White had made it through the marsh and was deep into the Forest. Her game bag was full and water supply was low. She took another swig from her canteen and turned to head back to the castle when a faint cry reached her ear. Snow White stopped, listening hard. Another shrill cry reached her. Even from this distance, she knew why the sound sent a thrill of sorrow through her very core. That was no animal’s cry. Hastily, Snow White gathered her supplies and nearly ran toward the sound.

Louder and louder the sound grew until she came upon a sight that stopped her in her tracks. Two bodies lay beside a large cart. The man lay face down in the mud, his arms and legs out at odd angles, a blade lying close to his open hand. A woman lay on her back beside him, her beautiful face almost peaceful, as though she were sleeping. The front of her dress was stained deep red and there were gashes across her chest and arms.

Snow White tore her eyes from the scene and followed the source of the shrieking. A small boy stood on the edge of the cart. Thankfully, the sides of the cart were tall enough that he could not see over them; he could not see the two bodies. Tears poured from his green eyes and his pale face was red from the effort of his sobs. He could not have been more than two years old. He screamed for his mother and, though he looked quite different from the two lying beside the cart, Snow White was certain he was calling for the peaceful looking woman lying beside her husband. Yet when he saw Snow White, his arms reached for her, desperate for help.

She quickly dropped her game bag and satchel and removed her hunting jacket, as it was still covered in brambles and who knew what else, before lifting the child into her arms. The little boy clung to her as though she were his life raft and he were adrift in an endless ocean. He buried his face in the shoulder of her undershirt and she placed a hand on the back of his head, preventing him for turning to see his parents. She backed slowly through the trees, all the while keeping the child’s eyes averted. Once they were safely in the cover of the trees, far removed from the cart, Snow White sat on a fallen log and gently pulled the little boy away from her to have a better look at him. She pulled a scrap of cloth from the inside pocket of her shirt and used it to wipe the boy’s face. His eyes were heavy, as though he had seen or heard too much for a boy so small. After a quick inspection, Snow White could tell that nothing seemed to be physically wrong with him. The little boy gave a great, shuddering yawn and laid his head back down on her shoulder. He was asleep in an instant.

They sat there together as the minutes ticked by; the boy comforted by her presence, the Queen comforted by his warm weight. All too soon, however, the situation caught up with her. She was not going to leave this child to wander the woods alone, yet she could not carry him as well as all of her hunting supplies. Though she knew she could simply get additional supplies elsewhere, Hercules had given her that bow and quiver years ago and it meant a great deal to her.

Snow White returned to the cart and looked down at her supplies lying on the ground beside it. In the back of the wagon there were a few scraps of cloth and bolts of linen. It seemed that whoever had overtaken the young family on their journey was looking for something other than fine cloth. Snow grabbed a length of muslin and wrapped it around herself and the child still sleeping on her chest. She secured the fabric and bent down, picked up her supplies, and turned to leave when something caught her eye; a thin, green square of cloth lay bunched in the base of the wagon, very close to where she had found the child crying.

At once, Snow White could tell that this was not fabric meant to be sold. She set her supplies down once again and picked up the small square. A name was stitched in one corner. Henry. The Queen’s breath caught in her throat. She looked down at the sleeping toddler.

“Henry,” she said quietly. She tucked the green baby blanket into the bundle in front of her, gathered her things once more and began the long trek back to the castle.

Though he was small, Henry’s weight grew heavier with each step she took. At one point, Snow White conceded and emptied the contents of the game bag into the brush. This relieved her burden somewhat. The sun was high at this point. Soon, no doubt, Henry would wake and when he did, he’d be hungry. A low grumble in her stomach reminded her that the sleeping child was not alone in that. Snow White debated. She thought of summoning a bluebird to deliver a message, but she did not have ink or quill. Instead, she looked around for what she did have. Whistling a little melody, The Queen held out her hand and a bluebird landed on her finger. With a stray string taken from the end of the muslin, she tied a bracelet David had given her and grass from the marshland. After a quickly whispered instruction, the bird took off toward the direction of the castle and Snow White continued on.

It was not long before a Royal carriage rolled along the road that ran parallel to the marsh. When it had gotten as close as possible without sinking deep into the water, the carriage door opened to reveal a tall man with a kind smile that Snow could see even from this distance.

King David trekked toward his wife, no more bothered by the landscape than she was. As they got closer, Snow White watched as he took in the scene before him. His eyes travelled quickly over her face, the hunting supplies she still carried and quickly fixed on the still sleeping form secured to her chest. Once they were in earshot of one another, David held up the bracelet.

“I got your message,” he said, eyes still on the bundle, “but I think I missed a few details.”

Snow smiled and kissed him. David held out his hand and she passed him the bow, quiver, canteen and empty game bag. Then she folded her hands on Henry’s back. “I found him, David.”

“I see that,” the King responded. His eyes were as kind as ever, but he looked confused, almost wary. “You clearly have a story to tell, but you must be exhausted.” They walked back to the carriage.

Snow White longed for nothing more than to collapse in the back of the carriage but first she walked toward two Knights of the Royal Guard. She told them where to find the couple and implored them to investigate the matter as much as they could. David said nothing during this exchange. He simply deposited the supplies in the back of the carriage and held the door open for Snow White as, at last, she climbed in and sank gratefully into its plush cushion, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

David had a simple lunch packed for her. It was only then that Snow White realized just how ravenous she was. David let her eat in peace for a few minutes as the carriage turned around and headed back toward the castle. Once she was satisfied, Snow White began to tell her husband all the events of the morning. As her story progressed, her husband laid a hand on the small child’s back and rubbed it gently. He bent forward and placed a kiss at her temple.

“Are you sure he didn’t see anything?” David asked.

Snow White thought back to the scene and nodded, suppressing a shudder. “The wagon walls were very high, taller than he was. I don’t know what he saw while they were still travelling, or what he heard, but I know he did not see his parents once they had fallen to the ground.”

David nodded, regarding the young boy. The Royal couple were silent for a few minutes, both watching the boy. Snow White loosened the muslin around the,. She held Henry to her chest and leaned back, closing her eyes again. Some time later, Henry’s eyes opened at last and he looked around.

“Mama?” the little boy asked. The request broke Snow White’s heart. She didn’t know how to respond. She wanted so badly to tell this boy that yes, she was his mother. But she couldn’t do that. At least, not yet. She couldn’t forget the woman with the peaceful face and bloodstained clothes. That was his mother. She had not earned the title. Not yet.

The boy began to fuss. He looked around the carriage more frantically. “Mama?” he asked again, more urgently. Snow White turned helplessly to her husband.

“Henry, it’s okay,” David said softly, placing a consoling hand on the child’s back, “It’s okay, Henry. You’re okay.”

Henry looked from David to Snow White and back before he began to sob. He cried out for his mother again and again and all Snow White could do was hold him as silent tears slipped down her cheeks. David continued to talk in that same soothing manner but Henry began to wail even more loudly. Snow continued to hold him as he sobbed and squirmed in her arms. She tried making shushing sounds as David continued to talk to him but that did not work.

Then at last, Snow White remembered a song her mother used to sing for her when she was very little. She hummed quietly at first and then began to sing softly. Henry could not hear her over his sobbing but eventually, when he paused to draw breath, he heard her song. His cries slowly quieted and he laid back down on Snow White’s chest. His breath hitched and he lay there for a while, eyes opened, his thumb in his mouth. Snow White and David looked at one another. He took her hand and kissed it as she continued to sing softly.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/ 

Prince Henry snuck down the hall as quietly as he could, one hand over the cloth pressed to his nose, his head bent low. Whenever he heard approaching footsteps, he sidestepped into the nearest alcove or through a door and waited for the steps to recede before continuing on. At long last, his bedroom door was in front of him. He picked up the pace, one hand still covering his nose, the other reaching out for the doorknob.

“Henry!”

Henry dropped his hand and cursed under his breath. He had been so close. Turning, he saw his mother striding toward him. Her arms already outstretched, a joyful smile on her face and a delicate tiara resting on her head. The Queen’s smile faded as she drew closer.

“Henry, what’s wrong?” Snow White asked, staring at the strip of white cloth peeking out from between his fingers.

“It’s nothing.” Henry turned away from her and put his hand on the door knob. Snow White pressed her palm against the door, preventing Henry from opening it.

“That doesn’t look like nothing.”

Henry weighed his options. She was bound to find out eventually. Slowly, bracing himself for the reaction, he lowered his hand and revealed the bloody and bruised nose underneath.

He could practically see his mother’s mind working. Shock, anger, confusion all flittered across her face. Yet, surprisingly, there was no outburst. No demand of an explanation. Snow White put a hand on her son’s cheek and examined his nose more closely before straightening up again.

“Come on,” she said gently and opened the door to his room. Henry sat on the chair in the corner of his room beside the table that housed the washbowl and water jug. Snow White pulled up a separate chair and poured some water into the bowl. Then she righted the jug again and dipped a clean cloth into it. Placing one hand on his chin, Snow White lightly dabbed at the dried blood on her son’s face. She worked in silence for a few minutes.

Then she said, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“No.” Henry replied.

They were silent again.

“Do you know what I think happened?” Snow White asked. As she dipped the rag once more into the bowl, traces of blood turned the water red.

Henry shook his head. “It looks to me like you got into a fight.” Her son suppressed a groan. There had been very little that Henry had attempted to hide over the years and this was exactly why. The little he did hide was almost always discovered in the end. Henry waited for his mother to ask more questions, to pry the information out of him. But he should have known better by now. Snow White said nothing else. She simply let that sentence sit in the air and continued to clean up Henry’s face, waiting for him to fill in the rest of the story.

Which, of course, he did. “It was Edward.” Henry said. “He kept insulting me and saying all these awful things and I just got mad and… I punched him.”

“What did he say?” his mother asked quietly, setting down the rag.

Henry hesitated. His mother was not known for having a temper, but even she had her limits. He should know, Henry thought ruefully, as he was often the one who pushed her to them.

“He… he said I wasn’t really a prince.” Henry said quietly, eyes on the ground. “He said I was a just a lost boy and I should just go back to the forest where you found me.”

Again, Henry braced himself for the explosion. He waited for his mother to scream and storm. Yet again, she surprised him. She set aside the cloth she was still holding and pulled Henry into a hug. She said his name softly and Henry could feel her shaking with suppressed sobs. Henry was bewildered. For as long as he could remember, his parents had told him about the day the found him, though he suspected they omitted a few of the finer details. Over the years, Henry had lost count of the number of times he had heard the story; how they had longed for a child of their own, how Henry happened to come to them. Snow and David didn’t go into details, but Henry had never felt the need for them before.

The entire kingdom knew the tale, as Snow White and King David were never ones to keep secrets, if the could help it. The vast majority of their subjects embraced Henry as their new prince and lauded the King and Queen for their generous hearts. However, not everyone in the kingdom agreed with this view point.

Henry’s mother pulled away from him. Snow White pulled out a fresh cloth and wiped her eyes.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Henry said. He was always uncomfortable when his mother cried. “You don’t need to cry. It’s just a bloody nose.” Though Henry knew she wasn’t crying about his nose, at that moment he would have said anything to get her to stop crying.

Snow White gave him a watery smile and wiped her eyes again. She set the cloth aside and took his hands in hers. She stared at their joined hands as though afraid to look her son in the eye.

“Henry, you know we’ve always been honest with you. We’ve always told you where you’re from and how much we love you.”

Henry nodded in agreement. Snow took a deep breath. “There’s something more to your story.” Henry’s hand twitched in his mother’s, but he did not pull away. He waited. Snow White took a few deep breaths, as though willing herself to say something.

“What? Mom, what is it?” Henry was trying not to worry but he had never seen an expression on his mother’s face quite like the one she wore now.

“Your parents.” Snow took another deep breath, “They… When I found you… I found them too. They had been murdered.”

Henry began to feel sick. “What?”

“There’s more.” Snow White was staring at her hand wrapped around his.

“They… They weren’t your birth parents.”

“How do you know that?” Henry asked quietly.

Snow White was quiet for a minute. “After we found you, the guards searched every village in the kingdom until they found someone who knew the little family that had gone missing.” Snow took another deep breath. “In the town your family is from there is an old midwife. Shortly after we found you, I went to see this woman. She remembered them. And you. The midwife told me young woman came into town one day with the couple. Not long after that, you were born and the very next morning, the young woman was gone.”

“She just… left? She just abandoned me? Just like that?” It was one thing to assume that he had come to live in this palace, had become a little prince because his birth parents had died valiant deaths. It was another thing entirely to know that he had been unwanted. That the woman who gave him life had left him in the arms of strangers and fled at her first opportunity.

Snow White tightened her grip on his hands. “I searched for her, Henry. I spoke with everyone else in that village, and all the neighboring villages. No one knows who she is.”

Henry tugged his hands away from his mother’s. He sat quietly in his seat for a few minutes, unsure of what to say. He had been abandoned. His birth mother had left him and disappeared. That was ten years ago. For all he knew, she could be dead too. There had been no mention of his father. Did his father abandon him too? Henry looked around the room. The large, lavishly decorated chamber belonged to a prince. To the son of Snow White and King David. Not to a boy who was abandoned by the woman who gave birth to him and later left to die in the woods. Maybe Edward had a point. He really was a lost boy.


	7. Like Mother, Like Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry sets out to find the women who gave birth to him and happens upon a group of bandits in the woods who may know more about his mother than he thought.

Over the next few days Henry couldn’t shake the desire to search for his birth mother. Yes, he knew that the Royal Guard had all searched for her and while he knew they were perfectly competent, it didn’t change his mind. Henry was going to find the woman who gave him up.

Henry woke before dawn with a fully formed plan in his mind. He wrapped a plain grey cloak over his clothes. Most of his clothing carried the Royal coat of arms or a monogram somewhere. The cloak, somehow, had missed this detail. Without the Royal crest giving him away, maybe he had a chance of finding his mother. He sneaked through the castle, out into the stables and quietly saddled his horse in the dark, slipping the food and other supplies he took from the kitchen into the saddlebags he borrowed from another stall. His own saddlebags, like everything else he owned, bore that same royal insignia. The saddlebags hanging in the neighbor’s stall did not. Though these were the royal stables, many of the people who worked in the palace or lived in villages nearby also kept their horses here. That was one of the many qualities that separated his parents from other Royals- they often opened their palace to wandering travellers or anyone else who needed it. Every person who works for the Royal family was allowed lodging within the castle and a space in the Royal stables.

Henry walked his horse out of the stable and closed the doors as quietly as he could. He climbed up with some difficulty, as the horse was still quite large next to his nearly-eleven-year-old frame. On the third attempt, he finally swung his leg over the horse’s body and adjusted himself in the saddle. Henry spurred the horse into a gallop and he took off toward the forest, trying to stick as close to the shadows as possible. 

It felt better just to be moving yet as the sky beyond the trees slowly grew lighter and his surrounding came more and more into focus, Henry had to admit that his plan had some pretty glaring gaps. He now knew that his first parents were murdered and though no one knew the identity of their murderer, it was widely assumed that they were bandits. After all, who else would steal from a young merchant family travelling the roads?

Henry was accomplished in many things. It was one of the perks that came with growing up in a palace. Yet one of his greatest strengths was not acquired in his many private tutoring sessions. The young prince had quite the knack for eavesdropping. The adults in his life were constantly stunned by just how much he seemed to know and how little they could keep from him. However, over the years, Henry had learned the value of discretion. Sometimes the best way to have the upper hand was to simply pretend you didn’t.

There was one bandit who was discussed at length in the castle: Robin Hood. Though sometimes his parents would speak highly of this bandit, lauding him for giving what he could to the poor who needed it, the fact remained that Robin Hood was a bandit and that a bandit killed his parents. In the logic of an eleven year old such as Henry, that meant the the bandit Robin Hood killed his parents.

It was not hard for him to find the group of bandits who called themselves “Merry Men.” They were rather infamous in the Sherwood forest and, though they moved camp often enough to fly under the radar of the Sheriff, Henry was adept at acquiring formation and with that came the ability to find people who didn’t want to be found.

Henry crouched on a crest of a hill and looked down at the camp laid out before him. It was still very early in the morning, but the few people who were moving were all hard at work. A few were stoking a fire under a large pot while others were peeling bark off of trees and using it to repair some of the huts.

It was not hard to tell which of the bandits was Robin Hood. Though he was dressed similarly to everyone else, the other merry men conferred with him before they did anything else. He saw one of the women who was helping to repair the huts walk over and speak to him, gesturing at the huts behind her and at the bark she was holding in her hands. Their conversation was brief and ended with Robin Hood placing a hand on her shoulder. With a nod, she turned away and went back to work. Henry continued to watch as another beautiful woman with long black hair walked up to him. Robin Hood beamed as she approached. He wrapped his arms around her and she kissed him. They, too, had a brief conversation before the woman turned and began to walk out of the camp, a large jug in her hand.

This was his chance. As quickly as he could, he followed the woman as she walked away from camp. He kept to the shadows, which were few and far between now that the sun had properly risen, and stayed behind trees. Slowly he crept closer. At last when she crouched by a stream to fill her jug, Henry seized his opportunity. He swiftly stepped behind her and held a knife to her throat. The woman stiffened for a moment and slowly set the jug down beside her.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Henry said, trying to keep his voice even. “I just want information.”

“Information about what?” in contrast, the woman’s voice was alarmingly calm.

“Two people who died years ago. My... sources say they had a run-in with bandits. Bandits like you.” He tried to make his voice low and intimidating. It was not easy. Then the woman sighed. In a flash, Henry was on his back and the woman held the knife in her hand. She didn’t hold it to his throat, but was stashing it in her jacket.

“My advice, kid: if you’re going to follow someone, don’t do it right after dawn. The forest is brightest then.” She held out a hand and Henry reluctantly took it.

“You knew I was following you? This whole time?” Henry’s spirits sank. So much for being stealthy.

The woman’s smile was almost pitying. “I didn’t notice you right away, and I definitely never expected you to be carrying a knife.” Henry could tell she was just trying to save his feelings, “You have the marks of a good tracker. You just need practice.”

Henry smiled in spite of himself. “Thanks,” he said.

The woman looked around. “You’re out here all on your own?”

“Yes.” Henry replied defensively.

The woman raised her eyebrows in response. “It’s a wonder you haven’t been killed already.” She muttered as she looked him up and down. Then she turned back toward the encampment. “Alright, come on.” she said.

“What?”

“We’ll be eating soon and I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Let’s go.”

Henry followed at a distance. This could be a trap. She was a bandit. She could be leading him into a trap to murder him. Yet, even as he thought that, he knew she was not leading him to his death. If this woman had wanted to kill him, she had had ample opportunity to do so already. Even when he held a knife to her throat, they both knew he posed no real threat.

Over breakfast in the Merry Men’s camp, Regina introduced Henry to Robin and the other Merry Men.

“My son Roland’s about your age. He’s out hunting right now, but he should be back around midday.”

Henry nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t think much of this pronouncement. He’d met his share of kids his age. Most seemed to either take Edward’s attitude toward Henry and his family or, far worse, became disgustingly sycophantic. Looking back on the first decade of his life, Henry wasn’t sure he had ever had a true friend.

A very tall man sitting beside Henry held out his hand and interrupted his dismal thoughts..“Little John,” the man said.

“Henry,” he replied and shook Little John’s hand.

They were quiet for a few minutes. Henry didn’t know why Little John was sitting next to him. He was just about to get up and walk away when Little John said, “Her name is Emma Swan.”

“What?” Henry asked, craning his neck to try and see into his face. Little John seemed to be smiling, though it was hard to tell from his angle.

“Your mother,” Little John said, “Her name is Emma Swan.”

“How do you know that?” The most Henry had ever learned about his mother was her first name. 

“I helped rescue her from prison. Back before you were even born.”

Henry’s mouth dropped. “My mother was in jail?”

Little John chuckled at his reaction. “Oh yes. Many of us have been sent to Nottingham’s prison. Very few have made it out. Your mother was one of the few we rescued.”

Henry watched as he smiled reminiscently. “She was a fiery, strong woman. Been through too much already before she wound up with us, I could tell that.”

“Where is she now?” Henry tried to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Little John scratched his chin for a moment before answering slowly. “She’s captain of a ship. The Tallahassee. Usually makes port at one of the towns down the road over that hill there.” He pointed up that same hill that Emma had climbed ten years before.

“Thank you.” Henry said as he stood up, anxious to head out.

“Wait.” Little John held out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. “You can’t go out wandering by yourself.”

“I’m not wandering.” Henry was growing weary of being treated like a child. “I know what I’m doing.”

Again, that same patronizing smile that he had seen on Regina’s face earlier. That he had seen on many faces in his life. He did what he could to control the rage building inside of him but Little John seemed to know exactly what he didn’t say.

“I know, son.” he said, placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “You are a very brave lad, I can tell. You have that same spark about you that she had. That same tenacity. I know you can handle more than you’re given credit for.”

Henry felt slightly bolstered by this.

“But it is unwise for anyone to wander these woods alone, especially a royal prince,” Little John continued.

Henry’s jaw dropped. “How did you know that?”

In answer, Little John pointed to the royal insignia peeking out from beneath his cloak. Henry shifted the cloth so that it was covered once more and looked around furtively.

“I don’t think the others know,” Little John said reassuringly. He leaned back in his seat and looked at Henry more critically. “You are very like her. You have also been through more than your share.”

Henry didn’t know what to say to that strange pronouncement. Little John told him that he could join the Merry Men when they set out tomorrow for their morning hunt. The Merry Men would ensure that he arrived safely at the port. While Henry still resented the implication that he needed any help, he was nevertheless grateful for a plan.

Just as they were serving the midday meal, a small group of men came down over the hill. The youngest was a boy who looked to be a few years older than Henry. This must be Regina’s son. Henry watched as the boy joked with the others. At the bottom of the hill, Roland broke into a run and stopped in front of Regina, who was standing beside a wash bucket. Henry watched as Roland held up the game bag in his hand and chatted animatedly with his mother. Regina smiled and kissed his cheek. Roland brushed her off and handed her the bag before retreating to his family’s hut.

A short while later, as they all sat in the clearing around the fire pit with their midday meal, Regina led Roland to where Henry was sitting.

“Henry, this is Roland.” Regina said.

“Hi.” Roland said, extending his hand just as Little John had.

“Hi.” Henry shook Roland’s hand.

Roland sat beside Henry with his plate and began to ask Henry questions, most of which Henry dodged, before returning them. Roland smiled and answered as they ate. After they finished, Roland walked over to one of the Merry Men who was dealing with the remnants of their meal, but the man brushed him off, insisting that he didn’t need help. Roland shrugged and smiled at Henry, beckoning him to follow as he ran up over the hill.

That afternoon, for the first time in a long time, Henry actually played. There were no tutors, no precepts, no obligations. Just two boys running in the woods and fighting each other with sticks and rocks and any manner of weapon they could find. They climbed trees and rolled down the hills surrounding the camp. As the day wore on, their games began to grow louder and more complex. Roland had the advantage of knowing every inch of the surrounding woods and could find all of the many hiding spots. Henry, however, had been trained in the royal ways and was an accomplished swordsman and bested Roland easily as they fought with wooden swords that Robin had whittled. As night fell, Henry found he was rather reluctant to leave the next day and as he bade Roland “good night,” he decided that he would find some excuse not to go with the hunting party in the morning. He would stay with Roland and the Merry Men as long as he could.

That night, Henry woke in his hut (the same one Emma had slept in years ago) to the sounds of yelling and gunfire. He sat up in a daze, his heart pounding. The cracks in the wooden walls of his shelter lit up with each shot fired. Before Henry could do more than stand, Roland was by his side

“Henry. We need to go. Now!” Henry grabbed his grey cloak at once and hurried out after Roland. He followed his friend through the dark camp. Henry thought they were heading toward the hill and was surprised when Roland instead led him off to the side and stopped in a shadowy space between two trees. Roland pushed aside branches and other debris, revealing a small opening appeared in a tree.

“What-” Henry said, mouth hanging open.

“Come on,” urged Roland, “we don’t have much time.”

Without another word, Roland disappeared into the gap. Henry glanced around. The gunfire was drawing closer. He slipped through the trees after Roland. It was an impossibly dark tunnel that seemed to be carved right into the side of the hill. Henry couldn’t see inches in front of his own face. Then he felt Roland’s hand on his arm.

“This way,” he said. Henry held one arm out in front of him and let Roland lead him through the forest. After about ten minutes, they emerged on the top of a hill. Looking down, Henry could see a harbor in the far distance, surrounded by a small port town. The sky had just begun to lighten. Dawn was approaching.

“The Tallahassee often comes to port in that harbor over there.” Roland said, panting slightly from their quick retreat. “Find a woman named Ruby. She runs an inn down there. Tell her Robin sent you.”

“Wait,” this was all too fast for Henry, “What about you? What about your family? Who was that attacking them.”

“Don’t worry about us, we’ll be okay. This isn’t the first time his men have attacked us.”

“Who? Whose men are attacking you?” Henry asked again.

“Nottingham.” Roland said.

“Why is he attacking you.”

“Don’t worry, Henry.” He said again, “We’ll be fine.”

“But there must be something I can do!”

A shadow passed over Roland’s face. “This isn’t your fight, Henry.”

Henry wanted to protest. He wanted to go back with Roland and make sure his family was okay. But instead he nodded and shook Roland’s hand. “Good luck,” the young prince said. Roland gave him a brief smile and turned around, disappearing once more into the tunnel. Henry refastened his cloak and headed down the hill.


	8. Captain Hook's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was well understood that Captain Hook would as soon cut you down as shake your hand. Every pirate worth their salt knew well enough to give his preferred hunting grounds a wide berth and Emma was no exception. Though she was not one to fear another captain on reputation alone, there was a code. She did not interfere with The Jolly Roger. And until that moment, The Jolly Roger did not interfere with her. Regardless of how much he actually lived up to his reputation, one thing was abundantly clear: Captain Hook, the most famous pirate in all the realms, sought a parley with her.

Captain Emma Swan was the only female pirate captain in all the realms and though her crew respected her, the same could not be said for most other sailors she encountered. After five years as Captain of the Tallahassee, she was well accustomed to the scorn in their whispers that followed her at every port. Yet their whispers did nothing to set her off course. Far from it. The words they spat at her, intending to wound, instead fueled her every victory. When she captured and pillaged yet another merchant vessel, when she strode into a tavern accompanied by her crew and spent her share of gold on spirits and companionship, the disdainful whispers began to take on a more respectful tone. When she managed to pilfer from a ship in the Royal Navy, a feat few could lay claim to, she left all others wondering at the surprising might of Captain Emma Swan.

In fact, the only thing that surprised people more than her position as captain was how she operated under that title. Though she was ruthless when she needed to be, she was fair and even sympathetic at times. Any treasure that was gained was divided evenly among every member of her crew, including herself. She took no more than the rest and worked alongside the men and women in her crew and they respected her all the more for it.

Most pirate captains forbade women aboard their ships. Emma didn’t hold to such superstitious nonsense. It would have been hypocritical of her, after all, not to allow fellow female sailors their rightful spot on her ship. This tactic had taken a rough turn at the beginning. Some women found that they had underestimated the conditions of a life at sea, and some men found that they possessed a certain disregard for the desires (or lack thereof) of their female crew mates. More than once, Emma had slit the throat of a man who hadn’t grasped the fundamental principles of the word, “No.” 

Rather than abandon this model altogether, Emma cracked down on the regulations and procedures required of her crew. Each sailor was to sleep in their own cabin and they were never allowed to enter any cabin besides their own. Amorous activities of any kind were strictly forbidden aboard the Tallahassee. Romantic attachments between crewmates were simply not tolerated.

Emma knew as well as anyone that emotions complicated matters. They clouded sailors’ heads and did not allow for sound judgement. If a crew member couldn’t comply with this or any other regulation they would be paid out their share and left at the nearest port, free to make their living some other way or with some other crew. 

Likewise, any sailor who committed the heinous offense of forcing unwanted physical contact on a crew member while on board the Tallahassee was punished by the strictest measures. Yet this did not pose a problem for long. Washing the blood of the last crew member to defy her from the decks of the ship seemed to act as a sufficient deterrent to the rest.

Her egalitarian methods were poorly remarked upon throughout the realms, primarily by captains of other ships who feared mutinies by their own crews who had learned of her strange practices. More than once her name had been whispered among other crews, that name acting as a rallying point they could gather around.

Though Captain Swan knew some sailors still spoke ill of her once she was out of earshot, they weren’t foolish enough to say anything directly to her. Not after she’d left a sailor twice her size bleeding on the floor of a tavern, cradling his broken jaw as his remaining teeth lay scattered across the hardwood when he was foolish enough to insult her. Word of that encounter spread far and wide and it didn’t take long before merchants in the most remote outposts knew to only address her as “Captain.”

The occasional bar-room brawl aside, Emma usually let her reputation at sea do the talking. The Tallahassee sailed far and wide, taking down merchant ships and Navy vessels alike and getting filthy rich off the proceeds. Those foolish sailors who had the misfortune to cross her path spread tales of her ferocity and her command in battle to the farthest reaches of the realms. Most pirate captains prided themselves on taking no quarter, butchering their enemies without mercy or restraint. Not Emma Swan. After ten years as a pirate and five at the helm of her own ship, Captain Swan knew that dead men told no tales, and she wanted her name remembered. Sometimes to be spared the sword when you desired nothing more than death was the cruelest torture of all. 

 

Though she had no problem doing what was necessary to protect herself and her crew, Emma didn’t enjoy killing. While she had been guilty of many sins in her twenty-nine years, she still believed in the value of a human life. A value beyond that which could be bartered for gold, or rum, or other shiny baubles. A price which Emma was not willing to pay. Though she could and had taken many a life in battle, she never oppressed another human being, never held a person under the bonds of slavery. It was this sense of humanity that had earned her the nickname, “The Savior,” a title she did not wear with pride.  
Emma and her crew had spent they day in one of the local port towns replenishing supplies and becoming… acquainted with the locals. The following afternoon, an hour or so after they had set sail once more, Leroy called down from the crow's nest "Enemy approaching! Port Side!"

"Ready the cannons! Hard to port! Make haste, you dogs, or I'll throw you overboard!" Emma shouted.

"Aye, Captain!" was chorused backed to her among a flurry of movement. Most of her crew had been sailing under her command for the last five years, and in times of crisis, it showed. The crew worked in unison. It was one of the many reasons the Tallahassee had become one of the most feared vessels in all the realms. As they rolled out the cannons, Emma pulled her spyglass from her belt and snapped it to her eye. The approaching ship was a rather magnificent one, she had to admit. Emma smiled at the thought of the sort of treasure a hull like that would contain. But as she scanned the ship, that smile faded from her lips. Even at that distance, there was no mistaking the black fabric dancing on the wind. It was the same flag she herself sailed under. 

As her mind began to race with exactly what another pirate ship would want with her, another flutter of movement caught her attention. Beside the black flag, a flash of white ascended to the top of the highest mast. The flag of peace. The request for parley.

"All hands halt!" Emma hollered. Action ceased at once. Every head snapped in her direction, awaiting further orders.

Emma peered once more through the spyglass, this time scanning the water. As she had expected, a small wooden boat was carrying half a dozen men toward her ship. A tall man in a long, black jacket stood at the back of the boat. He was waving what appeared to be a white handkerchief in his right hand and he exuded a confidence that was discernible even from this distance.

Something glinted at the end of his other arm. A metal curve ending in a sharp point. Emma let out a small gasp. There was no mistaking the hook extending from his left arm. Stories of Captain Hook’s artificial appendage were even more widely known than the he was. Emma knew his hook had tasted the blood of countless men. It was said that the hook was only less deadly than the man who possessed it. It was well understood that Captain Hook would as soon cut you down as shake your hand. Every pirate worth their salt knew well enough to give his preferred hunting grounds a wide berth and Emma was no exception. Though she was not one to fear another captain on reputation alone, there was a code. She did not interfere with The Jolly Roger. And until that moment, The Jolly Roger did not interfere with her. Regardless of how much he actually lived up to his reputation, one thing was abundantly clear: Captain Hook, the most famous pirate in all the realms, sought a parley with her.

Her crew were still awaiting instruction. "They request a parlay," she shouted, "we will welcome them aboard. Remember the code."

At once, the crew began to stow the cannons away and return pistols and swords to their holders. Emma watched the small boat approach, her mind racing.

“What on earth would Captain Hook want with us?” August asked, her Quartermaster taking his place at her side.

Emma didn’t respond, but continued to watch as the rowboat pulled up alongside and a rope ladder was dropped overboard. The men came aboard, Captain Hook ascending last. He landed with a soft thump of his boots on the deck and stood tall, surveying the assembled crew with a self-satisfied smirk. His dark hair was ruffled, and he laid a hand almost threateningly on the hilt of his sword, just visible beneath his long black coat. 

His eyes found Emma’s, and he dropped into a small bow. "Captain Swan," he said, her title taking on a new cadence in his exotic lilt. 

Emma eyed his hand where it sat poised on the hilt and said, “I didn’t realize it was customary to bring a blade to a parley.” Though her tone was light, her intentions were clear. Captain Hook considered her for a moment before unlatching his sword belt. August moved forward and Hook handed him the blade. The Quartermaster stared at Captain Hook for another beat before returning to stand beside his Captain once more.

“Welcome aboard the Tallahassee.” Emma said.

“It is an honor,” Hook said, with another bow.

"The honor is mine, Captain Hook." Emma nodded her head in response.

"Ah, I see my reputation proceeds me."

"I dare say it does. Join me in the Great Cabin. August will see to your men." Emma turned and exchanged a look with August, willing him to behave himself. He raised his eyebrows in a mockingly innocent expression before he descended the stairs to the main deck where Hook’s crew stood waiting. August always seemed to know what she was thinking, sometimes even before she knew herself. It was one of the many reasons her ship ran so well.

With one last glance at August, Emma turned and walked into the Great Cabin with Hook following close behind her. Once inside, she secured the door and turned to find him standing by the large windows, looking quite at ease. In spite of herself, Emma couldn't help but notice that he cut quite the impressive figure silhouetted against the glass. The sunlight streaming in behind him seemed to give him an almost ethereal glow. She gave her head a little shake and cleared her throat. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hook sauntered over to the bottle of rum Emma kept on hand in the event of just such an occasion. With his good hand he pulled down two glasses and set them on the nearby shelf. Then he pulled a rum bottle from the shelf and pried the cork off with his teeth, pouring a generous measure into both glasses. He corked and replaced the bottle with surprising dexterity. Captain Hook then grasped both glasses in his right hand and walked over to Emma. Holding a glass out toward her, he spoke at last. "You're quite a mysterious woman, Captain."

Emma raised an eyebrow as she accepted the glass. He was standing so close to her that she found herself momentarily lost in the piercing blue of his eyes, which she now saw had flecks of sea green at their center. She could detect the scent of sea air and the faintest trace of spirits. It took her a minute to find her voice again. "Am I?" she asked, in a thankfully even tone.

Hook nodded and drank, smiling slightly. "The only woman ever to Captain a pirate ship and somehow you and your crew have bested all other pirates in the realms. All except meself, of course," he added indulgently.

Emma considered him for a moment. "You'd be surprised what I'm capable of, Captain," she said cooly. She sipped her drink and walked away from him, leaning against the large table situated in the very center of the room.

Hook’s expression was impossible to read. "I have no doubt of what you're capable, Captain. Your reputation has preceded you as well." Hook lifted his glass toward her with a slight nod of his head, as though toasting her. Emma faltered for a moment.

"And what is my reputation?" she asked, watching him closely.

"You are known to be vicious to your enemies and fair with your crew. You work alongside them in every battle and split all treasure evenly among your crew.. Many believed you were foolish to allow women on your crew, yet you have not ever suffered a hint of mutiny.” Hook watched her for a moment. “That is not what I would expect.”

“And what would you expect?” Emma asked.

“Most pirates I consort with would not take kindly to sharing deckspace with women. They would become… distracted.” Hook sipped his drink again.

“Most pirates you consort with would get their throats slit on my ship,” Emma retorted angrily.

His look softened at once. “It was not my intention to offend you, Captain.”

“You wouldn’t be the first.” Emma’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“Perhaps we are getting off on the wrong foot. I merely intended to commend your abilities. It is a simple fact is that you single-handedly helm one of the greatest vessels in all the realms and do so with apparent ease. You are truly something. Like... magic."

Cold fear surged in her heart, overwhelming her anger. He didn’t know. He couldn’t possibly know. She had kept her powers quiet. Her entire crew had no idea. Not even August, and she trusted him with her life. Though she had magic, she was extraordinarily careful not to use her skills against anyone; adversary or ally alike. Plenty of stories had been told on the high seas. She knew what could happen if she was discovered. Emma watched Hook carefully, waiting for a sign that he knew more than he was letting on, but he was keeping everything extremely close to the vest. This was usually her tactic and it was infuriating to have it used against her.

"If there's one thing pirates are well versed in, it's gossip." she said evasively, taking a sip of her drink.

Hook grinned at her, a mischievous glint in his eye. He was not going to let her go that easily. "Which would make gossip an ideal place to hide the truth."

Emma took a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to return to a regular rhythm. She slowly lowered her drink from her lips, staring at Hook. He was still smiling at her, yet she couldn’t tell if there was any malice behind his words. For all she knew, he could have simply been speaking off the cuff, or trying to tease her. There was no way he could be suggesting that he knew she had magic.

She decided to shift tactics. Setting her glass down on the desk, she cleared her throat and crossed her arms. "We could keep this going all day but frankly I don't have the time. As you can imagine, I'm quite busy. So tell me, Captain Hook, why are you here?"

Hook set down his glass and adopted a very somber expression. "I have a business proposition for you.”

Emma sucked air through her teeth. "Sorry to disappoint you, but whatever it is, I'm not interested. My crew and I don’t work with outsiders."

"I know," Hook said simply, a teasing smile forming on his lips.

Emma raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for him to continue.

"As I said, your reputation precedes you." Hook was still smiling. It was an excited, almost gleeful smile now. He was clearly holding something back.

"Then why ask?"

"Because this affects you too, Captain." Hook said seriously and Emma was taken aback by this sudden shift in his mood.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked. 

Hook paused to pick up his glass again, tipping his head back to drain the last of the rum, then wiping away any remaining trace of liquor with a brush of his thumb to his lips and smirking when he saw her eyes follow his movements. He made a show of placing his glass back on the table before answering.

“I’m sure you’ve heard tell of the Sheriff of Nottingham?”

There it was again. His ability to somehow perceive more than he was letting on. How else could he know the one name he could utter to make her blood run cold? Emma’s grip tightened around her glass but she willed her face and her voice to remain even.

“We’ve met,” she said bluntly.

Hook smirked again. “Well, it seems he’s decided of late that Sherwood Forest was not a grand enough domain for someone of his… assumed power.” His face darkened. “He’s taken to the seas. Nottingham already controls three separate ports and his command is growing. The few sailors he wasn’t able to forcibly conscript into his service have been hanged, and he’s tripled taxes against the common folk. Merchants and townspeople alike have a been left to starve, or else waste away in one of his debtors’ prisons. If anyone tries to flee the settlements, they are shot on sight. Every day Nottingham puts forth more harsh decrees, closing any loopholes that may allow these people their freedom.”

A chill ran through Emma. She couldn’t help it. She crossed to the window in an attempt to cover up her sudden movement.

“Far be it from me to suggest not taking up so noble of a mantle,” Emma said, “But what about the Royal Guard? The Royal Navy? Has no one tried to stop him?”

At this, Hook gave a hollow, humorless laugh. “Those trussed up baboons? You know as well as I how easy it is to overtake a royal vessel.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to laugh. Though she had in her time conquered a Royal vessel, it was not without a good fight and a significant amount of bloodshed. However, her crew’s heavy spirits in the wake of their loss were significantly revived when they hauled the brigantine’s many treasures aboard the Tallahasee. That night they feasted in honor of those they’d lost.

“It seems the Royals have their hands tied,” Hook continued, “Very little news of this conflict has yet made it to the esteemed rulers of the Enchanted Forest. Nottingham has been very careful about controlling the flow of information. No one gets in or out of those villages without his say-so. And even if, by some miracle, some scrap of news did get through, he has a myriad of spies at court to deal with that. So, no. No bloody Soldiers of the Realm are coming to save the day.”

“Just a few lowly pirates, such as ourselves?” Emma asked, eyebrows raised over folded arms. “Tell me, Captain, do you often regard yourself as a vigilante?”

“Vigilante?” he scoffed. “No. Merely a concerned citizen of the realm.”

“And how exactly does one such concerned citizen of the realm come across this information,” Emma asked. “Did you happen to witness this cruelty yourself?”

Hook actually chuckled. “Ah yes, you are as shrewd as your reputation would lead one to believe.”

“I prefer to consider it pragmatism.” Emma retorted.

Hook touched his teeth with the tip of his tongue. Emma was momentarily distracted. She found herself wondering what it would be like to feel his tongue on her instead. She took a deep breath and returned to the present.

“No, Captain,” Hook said finally, “I did not see it. But I have it on good authority.”

“All do respect, Captain Hook, but why should I believe that?”

Hook looked as though he were debating with himself for another moment before he said, “I know because I’ve recently acquired a new crew member. One of the villagers that made it out of Sherwood Forest sought refuge aboard my ship. Or at least, most of him did. He lost an arm in the process and still somehow he made it to my ship in fine enough form share his story. I’ll admit, I was moved by his plight.”

Emma opened her mouth, ready to mock him again but something stopped her. Her eyes flicked to the curved metal hook protruding from his left arm. At once, she looked back into his face, trying to hide the gesture but her eyes met Hook’s and she knew her glance had not gone unnoticed.

“You present a strong case, Captain Hook,” she said quickly, “I will take it up with my crew and we shall decide whether or not to assist you in this matter.”

And odd expression crossed Hook’s face before he manipulated his features back into his usual playful smile.

“What?” Emma asked at once.

“Do you make all decisions so… democratically?”

“Everyone deserves to have their opinion heard in matters that pertain directly to them.”

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” Hook said. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was stroking his stubbled chin with his hand.

“You find that strange?” Emma asked, arms folded again.

“Well, pirates aren’t exactly known for their collaborations.”

“And yet, here we are,” Emma said, raising her eyebrows. 

The smirk was back. “Touché, Captain.”

Emma opened the door that led back to the deck. “As I said, I will confer with my crew. You shall hear from our envoy shortly.”

“Aye, Captain,” Hook replied. He bowed to her and Emma caught a trace of leather and rum on the air around him as he passed by her. She did not follow him out, as she would have liked, but turned away from the open door, trying to regain control of her senses. The door swung shut behind her when Emma let go of the handle and she moved over to the window, staring out at the vast horizon, trying to process everything that had happened in that brief exchange and trying to forget the way she felt when he looked at her like that.

There came a knock on the door. “Enter,” Emma called, still facing the window.

“Hey, Em,” August said quietly as the door shut again. “Hook’s leaving.”

“Captain Hook,” Emma corrected him, turning from the window to face him. August looked surprised, and more than a little suspicious. “He earned that title the same as everyone else. It is to be respected.”

They stared at one another for a long moment. “Aye, Captain,” August said at last.

Emma dropped her formal demeanor. She gave him a warm smile and sat on one of the comfortable armchairs in the corner of the room. “He has news,” she said, as August took a place in the chair beside her.

“Oh?” August raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued.

“It seems the Sheriff of Nottingham has grown tired of terrorizing his tiny part of the realm. He’s taken to the seas.”

“Doing what, exactly?” August asked, leaning in toward her slightly.

“Oh, you know,” Emma said in a falsely light voice that didn’t mask the bite of her words, “Terrorizing innocent people, oppressing the poor, everything you’d expect from a vile, trumped-up, lowly politician with impossible delusions of grandeur.” Her hand came down hard on the arm of her chair. August placed his hand over hers.

Emma’s eyes met his and he smiled. She took a deep breath and nodded. August removed his hand again and continued. “So, what was the Captain’s plan?”

“Captain Hook feels the best course of action is to take the fight right to the source.”

“And you?” August asked.

“I’m inclined to agree with him,” Emma said.

They were silent for the longest stretch yet. Looking at her brother, Emma felt certain that he wanted to say something, but he kept silent. 

“I think it’s time to assemble the crew,” she said.


	9. Diplomacy on the High Seas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and her crew discuss Hook's plan and debate what to do next.

“Captain Hook has brought a disturbing issue to my attention,” she told her crew. All thirty of them were gathered in the galley; the only room on the ship large enough to house everyone at the same time. “It seems the Sheriff of Nottingham has taken to the seas. He is terrorizing citizens and conquering villages.” There was an outbreak of muttering. Emma saw Jake shaking his head as his twin brother, Jackson, whispered something in his ear. “We know the code. We steal what we need, take what we can. But above all, we are free. We do not own our fellow men. Nottingham is implementing harsh mandates that dictate the rights of those he is oppressing, all under the guise of piracy. He is flouting the very name of “pirate” and he must be stopped!” There was a general murmur of assent at these words and a few shouted “aye!”

Emma felt a rush at the sound. She continued, “The question remains: do we join the fight?”

There was another general cry of “aye” but then one voice in the back spoke up.

“Wait.”

It took a minute for Emma to pinpoint the woman who spoke, but she knew exactly who it was. Jasmine was a slight girl with long curly hair that she kept braided and tied under a bandana. Though she didn’t look like much, Emma had seen her throw a man twice her size clear across a table. She was also one of the most dexterous of her crew, able to climb the rigging faster than anyone else.

Emma waved a hand toward her, inviting her to speak. “How do we know that is what is really happening? Did Captain Hook see this with his own eyes?”

“He did not witness this himself but he has it on very good authority,” Emma said. The muttering did not mask the sound of Jasmine’s next question.

“Whose?” Jasmine asked.

“One poor soul managed to escape a village under Nottingham’s rule with little more than his life.”

“But if you haven’t even spoken with this survivor yourself-”

“What does it matter?” growled a voice from the back, “It sounds like Nottingham has gone too far. Pillaging and plundering are one thing, but to hold entire villages to ransom? People are meant to be free!”

The crew began to stamp and cheer, banging against the walls and pounding on tables. Emma held up her hand for silence, which fell almost immediately.

“Is there more to be said or are we ready to put this to a vote?”

There was silence. Jasmine had folded her arms and seemed far more disgruntled than usual, but said nothing.

“The question is whether or not to join the battle and bring down the former Sheriff of Nottingham. Those in favor?” There came a bellowed chorus of “aye” that reverberated around the rather small room. “Those opposed?” three or four voices called out “nay,” Jasmine among them.

“The “ayes” have it. We will fight. All opposed are welcome to depart at the next port, should they so choose. We should be arriving there in a matter of hours.”

Emma turned and walked back to the Great Cabin, holding the door for August who, as always, was not far behind her.

“Well, it seems that everyone is more or less in agreement,” August said once they were alone again.

Emma picked up the tone in his voice. “And you?” she asked him.

August tipped his cap toward her. “I will follow you anywhere, Captain.” he said sincerely. She stepped forward and clasped August on the shoulder.

“So,” August continued, “What do we do next?”

There was a hard, fiery look in Emma’s eye as she said with a slight smile, “We do what we do best. We fight.”  
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/  
Hook’s smile upon seeing Emma again faded as soon as he caught sight of August.

“I did not realize we had company,” Hook said, addressing Emma.

“As Quartermaster, Mr. Booth is just as much a part of this as I am,” she said flatly.

Hook’s eyes darkened as he looked between Emma and August. He seemed to come to some conclusion. “Aye. So he is.”

Tension filled the air as Hook and August continued to regard each other. Emma did not know or care what was passing between them. She had more important matters to deal with. “I’ve called you both here because we need to discuss Nottingham,” she said, trying to keep them all on track. “My crew has agreed to fight,” she said, with a distinct note of pride in her voice.

“Aye,” August said with a fierce smile. Hook’s smirk held an almost patronizing quality. Emma was seized with the desire to slap that smirk off of his face.

“The question is, how do we proceed?” Emma asked them both.

“Nottingham’s arrogant but he’s smart,” Hook said at once, his eyes on Emma. “He’s been terrorizing the Forest for years and doing so quietly. There are many who are against him but none who are so bold as to stand and fight.”

“They’re scared,” August said. “Tales of his cruelty have reached the farthest corners of the realm. It is well known that he’ll throw anyone in prison for the smallest offense and very, very few people have made it out of his prisons alive.”

Emma fought a shudder. Neither men knew that Emma had once been of their number. August knew that she had gone to prison for a crime she didn’t commit, but Emma had never gone into great detail about her jailer, or indeed, about much during that time of her life. Emma gave her head a little shake and returned to the conversation, noticing as she did so that Hook was watching her closely. “Aye, his crimes are great,” she said. “Surely there must be a way to use his arrogance against him.”

“There might be something to that,” Hook said. “If we could send an informant to infiltrate his crew, they might be able to get us the information we need.”

“How would they do that?” Emma asked.

“Just as you’ve said- using his arrogance against him. If we could find someone skilled enough in deception who can go to Nottingham himself, claim to have defected from our crew or simply say that they want to work for someone as brilliant as himself, they would be able to gather valuable information.”

“You’re proposing that we use a spy,” Emma stated.

“Aye,” Hook said. “I would be happy to offer up a member of my own crew. William Smee. He’s a rather sneaky fellow, and as such he has quite a talent of obtaining sensitive information.”

While Emma considered this, August spoke up. “What you’re suggesting, Hook, is risky at best. There are a dozen ways this plan could fail. How do we know that Smee will remain loyal to you?”

“I’d prefer Captain Hook, if it’s all the same to you, Quartermaster,” Hook replied icily. August looked affronted as Hook continued, his eyes once more on Emma. “I trust Smee. He owes me a great debt. I’ve saved his arse more times than I can count. He knows better than to betray me.”

“But you are asking him to take a great personal risk,” August said. “Sending a scout in to infiltrate his army? It could take weeks, if not months for Smee to obtain any information worth using. And in that time, countless other villages could be taken. Frankly, the plan is ludicrous!”

“If you have an alternate plan, Mr Booth, well then, don’t be shy!” Hook was not as adept at keeping the anger out of his voice.  
“We attack.” August said with an almost maniacal glint in his eye, “Now. Nottingham will never expect it. With the combined might of our forces, we can take him down in one fell swoop.”

“We barely have sixty fighting men between our two vessels!” Hook countered. “Nottingham’s forces are in the hundreds, on the sea and on land. As skilled a fighter as I’m sure you are, Quartermaster,” he sneered, “We would never be able to hold off that many men.”

August opened his mouth to argue when Emma stepped forward.

“That’s enough!” she barked, bringing both men up short. “This petty squabbling will get us nowhere.” She regarded the two men in front of her coolly. “Both plans have merit. Far be it from me to charge headlong into a battle without knowing further information about the enemy, however I agree that time is of the essence. Captain Hook, if you believe your man is as trustworthy as he claims to be, send him ahead to join Nottingham’s forces. We would do well to gather all the intelligence we can before engaging in a battle. Meanwhile, both ships will travel as discreetly as possible to the neighboring port towns, recruiting as many willing and able-bodied sailors as we can. When the time comes to fight, we will need to be ready. Nottingham will no doubt be a formidable opponent and anything we can do to prepare us beforehand will be essential to our victory.”

Hook and August both looked from her to each other. At last they both nodded.

“Well, that’s settled,” Emma said, looking down at the map in front of her. “There are a half dozen port towns nestled on the outskirts of Sherwood Forest, near the Enchanted Forest. They will be our best bet.”

“Aye,” Hook agreed. “No doubt there are villagers and sailors there who are feeling the wrath of Nottingham and would welcome any chance to align themselves against him.”

Emma nodded and pointed to the map. “I will take my crew here, here and here,” she said, pointing at different towns. “Captain Hook, if you would head for these towns on the other side of the Forest, I think between our two ships we can cobble together a decent enough show of force to overtake Nottingham.”

She looked up to find that Hook was standing very near her, bent beside her over the map. When his eyes met hers, Emma felt a surge of heat run through her. She pushed it aside. “Proceed with caution,” she said, “we do not want the wrong people to catch wind of our plans.”

Hook nodded and gave her an almost genuine smile. Emma fought to keep herself together. She straightened up and looked away from Hook. August was watching the pair of them with an unusual expression on his face. Emma cleared her throat and the three of them discussed where and when to rendezvous. When at last all the plans were made, Emma turned to Hook.

“Captain Hook, if you will be so kind as to speak to your man, I will see you off.”

The door of the Great Cabin closed behind them and Emma followed Hook above deck. She called orders to her crew as they prepared to sail. Hook stopped at the top of the gangplank and turned to Emma. He held out his hand and Emma shook it. At the touch of his skin against hers, Emma’s heart began to beat faster.

“I must say, Captain, that was an impressive show back there,” Hook said, smiling.

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, narrowing her eyes and folding her arms in front of her chest.

“I was referring to your battle strategy, of course,” Hook said smoothly.

Emma narrowed her eyes, “Right. Of course,” she said.

Hook’s smile broadened, “I will see you in a week, Captain.”

“I look forward to it,” Emma replied, giving him a little smile of her own.


	10. Captain Swan's Guide to Piracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Hook each head out to recruit sailors for the battle ahead.

Recruiting sailors was a more difficult task than Emma had anticipated. Though she knew there were many who would no doubt be anxious to join the rebellion, she couldn’t very well waltz into a bar holding a sign up sheet. This had to be done delicately and with discretion. She therefore inscripted herself, Milosh and Jasmine to disembark and make the rounds. August initially protested, insisting that he wanted to recruit as well. However, while August was an asset in any battle, he lacked a certain level of tact and did not always act delicately.

“When the Captain is not on board, the command falls to the Quartermaster.” Emma gripped his arm and said in a quiet voice, “I will not be able to rest easy unless I know my beloved ship is in your charge. I need you, August.”

This seemed to do the trick as nothing else would. August nodded, a distinct gleam of pride in his eye and set about his business.

During the week, Emma tried to remain focused on her goal but her mind kept wandering to a certain one-handed pirate. She wondered where he was, if he was having any luck and, far more importantly, had he come across any danger while he was out.

It was with equal parts fear and excitement that she spun the helm and sailed her crew, both old and newly acquired, to the prearranged rendezvous point. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw the Jolly Roger moored there.

Once they also docked, Emma descended the gangplank.

“Shall I accompany you, Captain?” asked August as she left.

“No, thank you, Mr. Booth,” Emma said, turning around and smirking at her brother. “I will be fine on my own. As always, the ship is in your charge whilst I am gone.” 

August nodded and retreated from the side of the ship. Emma could hear him calling orders to the others.

Emma walked the short distance down the pier to the Jolly Roger and began to climb the gangplank.

“I wish to speak with Captain Hook,” Emma said. The crewman nodded and strode away.

When he returned, he said, “The Captain will see you in the Great Cabin.”

Emma nodded and descended the steps. She knocked on the door and entered when he called.

“Ah, Swan!” He sounded genuinely pleased to see her. “Did your search yield any results?”

“Some,” Emma replied, “forty or so men and women have agreed to fight.”

“I likewise have added a fair number of men to my crew.”

“Just men?” Emma asked, eyebrow raised. “You didn’t find any women who wanted to join our cause?”

“Most women I encounter are interested in the pirate, not a life of piracy,” Hook said with a cheeky grin and his characteristic raise of his eyebrow. Emma should have been disgusted by this, and she supposed a part of her was, but even this obvious display of charm and bravado she somehow found endearing. Hook had many conquests, just as Emma did. And like Emma, he was not ashamed of them. He did not hide any part of himself under the guise of differentiation. Hook treated Emma as his equal and this included regaling her with tales or hints of his many trysts. While Emma appreciated his honesty, she couldn’t ignore the stab of jealousy in her heart or the flush of her cheeks when she thought of Hook bedding other women.

Emma cleared her throat. “Did you manage to find anyone willing to fight?” she asked.

Hook smiled as though he knew exactly what she didn’t say. Then he replied, “Aye. Three dozen or so men who seemed more that willing to take up arms.”

Emma smiled and nodded approvingly.

“However,” Hook continued, “I don’t believe any of them have actually taken up arms before. While there is a fair amount of potential among them, They are all woefully unprepared for a fight against the likes of Nottingham and his crew.”

Emma scowled. “Aye, my men and women are the same. They were all more or less eager to join the cause but I do not believe any of them are aware of the hardships of piracy. They were desperate for a way out of the misery they are enduring under Nottingham.”

“Aye,” Hook mused, “conditions under Nottingham must be dire if they are considering a life of piracy. It is not a path many dream of.”

“Aye.” Emma agreed solemnly. They were quiet for a minute, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Have you heard from Smee?” Emma asked.

Hook rubbed his chin. “Not yet,” he said. Catching the look on Emma’s face, he added, “He’s not due back for a while yet. Given the nature and the risks of his assignment, I couldn’t very well meet with him on a regular basis.”

“How do you communicate with him.”

Hook studied her for a moment before saying, “I have my ways. Never fear, Captain Swan. He will not fail us.”

“I should hope not,” Emma muttered, “However, as that element of our plan is not likely to yield results anytime soon-” When Hook looked affronted Emma quickly added, “which is more than understandable! As you’ve said, this is no easy task.”

Hook nodded in response. Emma continued, “But the fact remains that if we are planning on attacking Nottingham with an army, it seems we will have to be the ones to train that army.”

“Aye,” Hook agreed, “so it would seem.”

They started that very day. Both Captains discussed their training plans with the senior members of their respective crews. Emma spoke with August, Leroy, Milosh, Jackson and Jasmine. Each had different skills to pass onto the new recruits. Leroy focused on cannons, guns and all manner of weapons in the armory. Milosh introduced them to the various skills ever pirate needed; how to properly preserve food, how to find fresh water, all manner of survival skills one would need while out at sea. Jackson taught the crew the vast array of knots Emma herself had taught him and which were best for a variety of situations. Jasmine showed the recruits the benefits of stealth and the elements of surprise. August focused on close quarter combat. When it was time, Emma trained each new recruit how to properly sword fight.

Their progress was slow but grew steadily over time. The first few weeks, Emma felt that their efforts were hopeless. Not one among them seemed particularly proficient in any one field and more than one recruit broke down in tears.

At least once a day, Captain Hook and Captain Swan sent letters to one another from their ships, keeping each other up to date on the crew’s progress. Occasionally, Hook’s letters would include a personal detail or he would end his letter by asking Emma a questions that had nothing to do with the impending battle. Emma resisted answering his questions at first, wanting only to keep this strictly business. However, it was not long before Emma found herself answering his question, and occasionally even asking one of her own.

By the end of that first month, Emma really started to see progress. According to Hook’s reports, he was likewise seeing improvement from his own troops. Toward the end of the second month, both Hook and Emma felt that their new crews had become passable sailors. What with that and Hook’s news that Smee was very close to a lead regarding Nottingham’s plans, Emma couldn’t help but feel bolstered. Maybe they actually had a chance at this.

Before they had the hope of attacking Nottingham, however, they needed another battle. A place where the new crews could test out their recently acquired skills. They needed a enemy and a ship. That was when Leroy spotted a Barque of the Royal Navy cresting just over the horizon.


	11. Avalon's Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tallahassee and the Jolly Roger took down one of the most elite ships in the Royal armada. Yet Emma finds that the events following the attack are more difficult to handle.

No pirates had ever managed to take down the most grand Barque in the Royal navy; the Avalon. A ship that size typically outstripped brigs such as the Jolly Roger or the Tallahassee with extraordinary ease. It was an impossible task, yet both Hook and Emma agreed that it was worth fighting for. The food stores and ammunition supplies on both ships were running low. If they were to face Nottingham’s armada, they would need far more than could be found in either hold. Both Hook and Emma recognized that, focused as they were on Nottingham, it had been a while since either crew had engaged in a decent fight. When they faced Nottingham, they needed to be ready.

Emma and Hook spent days strategizing. Emma was surprised at how well they seemed to work together, not just in this, but in all matters. Hook was able to follow even her most vague train of thought and offered a different perspective on whatever issue was at hand. Though their thoughts often followed the same path, there was enough difference in viewpoints that together they were able to see what one alone could not.

The same could be said during an actual battle. Though communication was difficult when each captain was on their own ship, it seemed as though Emma and Hook didn’t need to communicate, at least not with words.

The two ships worked in tandem, each instinctively anticipating the other’s movements and planning their own moves accordingly. As they made their initial approach toward the Avalon, the Tallahassee fell in line directly behind the Jolly Roger, making it impossible for those aboard the Royal vessel to distinguish how many ships were approaching and thus giving the pirates the upper hand and the element of surprise.

When the Roger veered port side and blasted cannons, drawing fire and focus from the Avalon, the Tallahassee swooped in on the starboard and was able to inflict more short-range damage. In little to no time, Emma’s crew was swinging aboard the deck of the Avalon and slaying sailors with dizzying rapidity. Emma lost track of the other fighters as she focused on each sailor that came her way; using her sword and pistol in equal measure. When one sailor shot his own pistol toward her, Emma avoided the bullet, though narrowly. She heard it whistle past her ear. She grabbed the arm of the sailor, bent back his hand and slammed her elbow into his face. The sailor cried out and dropped the gun, his hands grasping his nose as he dropped to his knees. Emma delivered a swift kick to his face and when he fell back on the deck, she ran him through with her sword.

Not long after that, Emma was approached by two sailors simultaneously. Even all these years later, whenever she was approached in battle by more than one opponent, she would flash back to that day in her room at the inn when Nottingham’s guard advanced on her. They ended the fight and she wound up in prison. All these years later, that memory remained sharp and vivid.

Emma was able to keep them both at bay, but she could not advance upon them. Every move she made was defensive. She kept herself alive but had no hope of rendering either sailor unconscious. Somehow, a third soon joined in. Through their combined efforts they successfully backed her into a corner. Emma could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she narrowly avoided another blow.

Then came a flash of silver. And another. And the swish of a long black leather jacket. Just like that, all three men had collapsed onto the deck and there stood Hook, wiping the blood off of his silver appendage and giving Emma a cheeky grin.

“I had it under control.” That smirk of his was infuriating sometimes. This was one of those time.

“I’m sure,” he replied, smug. Emma growled and quickly engaged another Royal sailor in battle. 

Emma wasn’t paying attention to Hook, or anyone else for that matter. She quickly slew the sailor she was fighting and spun around, looking for more fighters. Yet there didn’t seem to be any. Only a dozen or so Royal sailors remained and they were surrounded by both pirate crews. Hook was standing slightly in front of the crews, closer to the Royal sailors than all others. His cutlass was pointed at Avalon’s captain, who let his own fall to the deck

“The ship is ours, mates!” Captain Hook’s words were met with thunderous approval.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“To Captain Swan!” Hook cried, raising his glass. The bar erupted in cheers. Emma and Hook drained their glasses and he braved the crowd to get more from the bar.

She still couldn’t believe they pulled it off. Both ships now had fully stocked food stores, decently replenished armories as well as small mountains of jewels and gold pieces. Both crews agreed that the Avelon itself was too far gone to be repaired, far too large to be manned by their combined crews and, truth be told, both Hook and Emma loved their ships too much to part with them. Both captains had once discussed the idea of pooling all their resources together and amassing both crews on to one large ship but the idea was dismissed almost immediately. After all, a ship only required one captain.

The tavern was packed with most of the sailors from both crews. Emma's heart burst with pride as she looked around at them all. It was one of those moments that seemed all too rare these days; this was right. This was who she was meant to be.

Hook slithered through the crowd toward her, smiling slyly and holding a bottle of rum in his hand.

“I have to hand it to you, Captain.” Hook’s eyes shone as he filled their empty glasses. “You skill in battle surpasses your reputation. That was some of the best fighting I've seen in years.” He leaned forward slightly as he passed her a glass. “You are fairly ruthless with a scabbard.”

“Is that a joke?” She asked suspiciously.

Hook’s smile faltered. “Of course not, love. Why would I jest about that?”

“During the fight,” Emma reminded him, “You saved me. I couldn’t hold my own against those sailors. If you hadn’t-”

“It was the right thing to do,” Hook replied, his smile seemed nearly genuine.

“You shouldn’t have had to.” Emma said, sipping her drink with a sullen expression.

“If this is your way of thanking me, love, I can think of a few other ideas.” Hook raised his eyebrow suggestively and tapped a finger to his lips.

Emma laughed to mask the rising heat she felt building within her. She held his gaze for another moment before looking instead at the glass as she raised it to her lips. The warmth of the rum spread out to the very tips of her limbs. Two glasses in, she was standing closer to Hook. Three glasses in she kept finding her gaze wandering to his lips as she wondered yet again what it would be like to kiss them.

To make matters worse (or better), Hook kept finding excuses to touch her hand and kept staring far too intently into her eyes. Emma could barely hear what he was saying over the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. Soon, she was imagining what it would be like not just to kiss him, but to hold him. She imagined how it would feel to take off his beautiful leather jacket and watch it fall to the floor. Her heart skipped a beat as she wondered how he would look lying on a bed beneath her.

And then. There came the moment. She laughed at something he said and he looked down, trying to hide his own smile. Then his eyes met hers again. Emma didn’t look away. Their gaze held as the moments ticked by. Emma stared at his lips. Hook leaned in.

Emma drew back. “No,” she said, one hand outstretched against his chest. She doubted Hook had heard her over the celebratory shouts around them, but there was no mistaking her hand on his chest, pushing him away instead of pulling him toward her, as she longed to do. She ignored the feeling of his heart beneath her fingertips, beating a quicker rhythm than usual. She ignored the way it seemed to beat in time with her own heartbeat in her ears. Quickly, she withdrew her hand and kept her gaze downward. She didn’t think she could handle seeing the pain or disappointment in his eyes. 

With a quick shake of her head, she hastily grabbed her still full glass and fled through the crowd. For the first time in hours, she became aware of her surroundings. Looking around the bar she saw August standing in a corner with a crewmate. They seemed quite cozy. Were this any other night, Emma would pull August aside and remind him of the strict rules that were still in place aboard the Tallahassee, but at that moment, to say anything would feel hypocritical.

Though Captain Hook was not part of their crew, under the strictures of their alliance, Emma had made it clear that no one from her crew was to consort with the sailors of his. Though the situation had changed, the rules must remain as they are. No one on the Tallahassee is to engage in any sort of romantic endeavors with anyone on board the Jolly Roger. This included the Captains. It was all for the sake of the crew. The sake of the mission. At least, that’s what she told herself.  
Emma fought her way through the crowd and pushed open the heavy front door, splashing a bit of rum down her hand in the process. It was cooler out here, much easier to clear her head. Her heart was a different story. Despite the chill in the night air, Emma felt a warm flush spread through her body as she thought again of Hook; the way he smiled when she laughed, they way his blue eyes seemed to break through all her walls, the way they fought so seamlessly together in battle. The way that deliciously cruel smile curved up his lip when his hook sank into an adversary and the way he was always so good to her. Despite being the most ruthless pirate on the high seas, through their time together, Emma had discovered a kind, almost soft side to the fearsome Captain Hook. Her heart beat faster as she wondered again what his lips would feel like. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall of the tavern.

At that precise moment, a young man emerged from the kitchen door. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his long, light brown hair. Then he reached behind his back to undo the knot of his apron.

The man caught sight of her. “Hi,” he said. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“Getting some air.” Emma said shortly.

“Nice night for it.” he replied. Emma scoffed and looked at him appraisingly. He was tall and lanky, more limbs than man. As he shouted back at someone who was still in the kitchen, Emma could tell from his voice that he was younger than she was, though not by much. He wasn’t much to look at but she was still revved up. She needed a release. She needed a body that wasn’t… his.

“Do you have a room?” Emma asked. Though she hadn’t worked in a bar for years, she remembered the way these things usually worked.

His smile was uncertain yet excited, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening. “Yes,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Do you want to-”

“Let’s go.” Emma downed the rest of her rum and threw the glass against the wall. Shards of shattered glass rained down on the cobblestones behind her.

The young man turned at once and led her down into his basement room. It was not at all dissimilar to the rooms she used to occupy. He shut the door behind her and Emma’s mouth found his. He kissed her back eagerly.

When they broke the kiss, the man said; “My name is-”

“I don’t care,” Emma replied.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” he said. “But-”

“Stop talking,” Emma whispered against his lips.

He wrapped his thin arms around her waist and pulled Emma even closer. She held him tighter and kissed him hard. She wanted to lose herself in lips and tongues and wandering hands. She wanted to satisfy the ache in her heart and assuage her own loneliness in the arms of someone safe and forgettable. Clothes fell to the floor and Emma positioned herself on top of him. She tried not to think of those strong arms and that quiet voice as she rode the stranger in the dark. Tried not to think of the way he looked at her after a battle or when they were plotting their next move; that mixture of lust and admiration. She tried not to think of the way he said her name, the way it felt so right to be near him. She tried not to imagine his hands on her instead. Emma tried not to think of the way he would say her name as he held her to him and kiss her neck the way she liked because he knew her better than anyone and he would know just how to touch her. Emma moved her hips even faster now, her movements rougher, trying to get as far away from the thought of him as she could. The man under her began to moan. That made it better (or worse).

Soon enough it was over. Even in the dark, Emma could sense the man’s happiness. She gently slid off him and began to get dressed.

“Wait, where are you going?” the man asked, propping himself on an elbow. “Do you want to stay?”

“No,” Emma said, fighting the rising wave of sorrow crashing over her heart. She cleared her throat and slipped her boots up to her knees. Then she opened the door and stepped out again into the moonlight. Her limbs were slightly shaking and she leaned against the building for support. It was still dark enough that she allowed the tears to fall down her face unchecked. The stranger’s scent lingered over her and yet she still remembered the way he looked at her in the bar.

Emma walked down the hill, out of town toward the docks. There were the two ships, moored side by side as usual. The sight only heightened the ache in her heart. It was quiet. The crews were still out revelling. But for the few sailors who stood guard on the deck, the Tallahassee was deserted. Emma was thankful for that. She bid her sailors a quiet “goodnight” and headed into her quarters. In the dark, Emma filled another glass of rum and drank it as she stood in front of her high windows, watching the moonlight dancing on the waves.


	12. The Price of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Hook learn more about Nottingham's plans and must each confront their past.

Emma and Hook hid in the shadows of a tree and waited. Smee had met with Hook earlier that day. Their informant had relayed a wealth of information to his Captain while Emma met with August. The Quartermaster, for his part, wasted no time assuring Emma that Smee was not to be trusted.

“How do we know Nottingham had not gotten to him, as well?” August had asked her.

Emma placed a hand on her forehead. They had had many similar conversations in the recent weeks and she was growing weary of them.

“Because Hook says he can be trusted.” Emma repeated once again.

“And why should we trust Hook?” August demanded yet again.

“I have already answered this question many times.” Emma said impatiently. In actuality, she never fully answered whenever August questioned her about Captain Hook’s motives. At least, she had never answered satisfactorily enough to prevent August from asking her that same question again. Besides the fact that Hook had only ever behaved honorably and had defended her in battle more than once, Emma trusted him. She knew he was a man of honor. She knew that, as a pirate, Hook kept to a strict code, but it was more than that. Though Hook was oftentimes rather secretive about his past, though Emma knew there was a lot of Hook that she still didn’t know, something deep within her knew that Hook would never betray her.

Now, as she crouched in the dark beside Hook, Emma told herself that the pounding in her heart had nothing to do with standing so close to him. She told herself it was at the prospect of finally getting answers as to Nottingham’s whereabouts. That finally, after all this time, she might at last get revenge on the man who had 

Hook said nothing as he crouched beside her. He seemed to sense that there was more in play for her here than she told him. As always, he sat quietly and let her take the lead in regards to how much or how little she told him. That was one of the many unexpectedly wonderful things about him; he never pushed her.

All of her senses seemed to be on high alert. She studied the door to the left of the apothecary, the one Smee had told Hook about. Minutes pass in silence. Emma could tell that they were deep into the middle of the night by now. Her senses began to slacken, her mind grew numb. She remained aware, but all of her adrenaline was gone. The burning desire she had known hours ago was slowly giving way to a burning fatigue creeping in behind her eyelids. She blinked rapidly and shook her head, eyes still trained on the door.

“Perhaps we should call it a night, eh, Swan?” Hook asked, looking over at her. Emma responded by shooting him a look.

Then, at last, they heard the creak of a hinge and a short, squat shadow broke away from the darkness of the front door. Silently, Emma and Hook followed far enough behind their mark not to arouse suspicion. The man ahead of them stumbled slightly and dropped an empty flask that clattered on the stones. Emma fought back a snort. This will be almost too easy.

Once the man was far enough on the outskirts of town, the pirates began to walk faster, staying as silent as ever. They overtook the man quickly and Hook overpowered him with one blow of his hook on the back of the man’s head. The stranger crumpled and Emma caught him at once. She hoisted him over her shoulder easily and they retreated toward the room they had rented for the night. Both Hook and Emma agreed that bringing a potential informant back to either ship would be giving the lackey more information than he was worth.

While still unconscious, the stranger was bound to chair and gagged. Despite the jostling, the man stayed immobile, slumped against one side of the chair.

“This one’s been hitting the rum hard tonight, hasn’t he?” Hook lifted one of the man’s eyelids.

“Either that, or the sharp blow from your hook killed him.” Hook’s shoulder bumped into Emma. she hadn’t realized they were in such close proximity to one another. Emma told herself that her racing heartbeat was due to the excitement of the capture. Nothing more. Her lies were becoming harder and harder to believe.

“I assure you, he’s alive,” Hook said.

“How can you be sure?” Emma asked.

“I know the force it takes to kill a man with the blunt edge of my hook.” He said, waving the appendage in question in front of her. “I assure you, he’s alive. He’s simply unable to hold his alcohol.” Emma avoided looking into Hook’s eyes and instead focused on the bound man before her. He had a wide, doughy face, beady little eyes and a squashed nose, as though it had been broken one too many times. His rotund body looked even wider in the confines of the chair.

“Well, we don’t have all night.” With that, Emma drew her hand back and gave him a sharp slap on the side of his face.

That did the trick. “Oi!” the man cried out, eyes fluttering at last. “The ‘ell you think you’re doin’?” He caught sight of the two pirates standing before him. His eyes grew wide and he began to squirm in his seat. He looked down at his body and the full realization of what was happening seemed to hit him at once.

“Listen…. I-I-I dunno what you wan’ from me. I got no money.”

“We don’t want money,” Emma said, arms folded. “We want information.”

“Well I, for one, never to turn down treasure, love,” Hook muttered. Emma shot him a look.

“We’re not here for money,” she repeated, staring pointedly from Hook to Darren, “we want to know about the man you work for.”

“And who’s to say I work for someone?” The man’s eyes darted around the room, clearly looking for the closest possible escape route.

“Oh, come now Darren,” Emma said in a soft, almost seductive voice, “We all know who you work for. Who you’ve always worked for. Ever since you left the Royal Guard all those years ago.” Emma bent forward, staring at the man before her. His eyes were locked with hers. He seemed unable to look away, “What a disgrace you were, Darren. Always the last in your class. Always behind. You couldn’t hack it on your own, could you? You needed someone bigger, someone important to rally behind. And you’ve found him now, haven’t you?”

It was clear from the way Darren was shaking; his mouth trembling and his eyes continued to dart back and forth, that Emma’s extensive knowledge of his history had rocked him to his core.

“P-p-please,” he said, “Please. L-let me go. I don’t know anything. I swear!”

“Are you sure about that, Darren?” Emma asked quietly.

Darren nodded vigorously. Emma bent so close to his face that they were almost nose-to-nose “Here’s the thing.” There was a flash of silver. Emma held a knife to the crook of Darren’s neck. “I’m really good at telling when people are lying. And you, Darren, are.”

Sweat was running down his brow. Emma caught a glimpse of Hook out of the corner of her eye. His mouth had gone slightly slack, but his eyes shone bright. She knew that look. It spoke of respectful admiration and more than a hint of lust. She flashed him a smile before turning her gaze to Darren again. He was shaking his head back and forth, his knees knocking together. Emma pushed the tip of her blade further into his throat. A drop of blood slipped from beneath his skin and trailed down the length of her knife. 

“Okay!” he said at last, “Okay! I-I know that Nottingham is plannin’ somethin’. Somethin’ big. But I dunno what it is!” he nearly shrieked as Emma pushed the dagger into his neck another centimeter. “But I know it has to do wi’ the Enchanted Forest. He’s moving in on the Royal kingdom. I dunno how. I dunno what he’s planning, but he’s excited about it. More excited than I’ve ever seen ‘im.”

Emma withdrew the dagger from his neck and stepped back. Darren breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, Darren.” She smiled down at him, “You don’t actually think I’d believe that, do you?”

Darren’s smile faded. A look of terror lit up his entire face. “No, no-no I swear! I swear! He- he said he’s not happy with controllin’ just a few ports. Not enough people know ‘is name. He wants all the realms to fear ‘im. Terrorizing small villages is not enough. He has enough money and enough people on ‘is side tha’ he wants to take the fight to the King and Queen.”

Emma stood staring at him for another moment. Then, in an instant, there was another flash of silver and Darren’s arm had a deep gash running from his wrist halfway to his elbow. Darren screamed and stared in horror at the blood dripping from his arm. Emma smiled at Hook, who was wiping off his appendage with a spare handkerchief.

“It’s not polite to lie to the lady, Darren,” Hook said, eyes still on his hook. He caught Emma’s eye and smiled at her. She returned the look before raising her eyebrows at Darren.

“I’m not lyin’!” Darren cried, tears falling from his eyes now.

“Well, you might not be lying, but you certainly aren’t telling us everything,” Hook said.

Darren shook even harder. “Wh-wh-what do you mean?”

"A guy like you; a lowly bit of scum like you always knows more than he lets on. That’s one of the perks of being so invisible, Darren. It’s much easier to eavesdrop on others’ conversations. So, we’ll ask you again; what is Nottingham planning?” 

Darren stared at the hook, which gleamed in the candlelight. “One week.”

Hook raised his eyebrow. Darren continued. “One week from tonight, he is going to attack the Castle in the Enchanted Forest. Nottingham’s goin’ to slip in with his few trusted men and take the Kingdom by force. He ‘as enough people on his side tha’ he can pull it off without anyone noticin’ until it’s too late.”

Another flash of silver. Darren’s screams deafened them in the cramped space as blood fell from a second gash running parallel with the first.

“That’s it! That’s all I know! By God, I swear! N-Nottingham is sneaky. He’s quiet. No one knows his plan beside ‘im. No one. We just all know when to show up.”

“And when is that, exactly?” Emma asked. “What were your exact instructions?”

“We are to meet at the docks in Ingleshire at nightfall in one week.” Darren groaned at the pain in his arm. Blood was dripping steadily onto the floor. His face was growing slightly paler and his head bent forward.

Emma looked at Hook, who nodded.

“Well, if that’s really all you have to tell us, I guess we have no further use for you.” Emma said as she drew her knife out again.

“N-not bad. For a lost girl.” Darren muttered into his lap.

There was silence in that empty room. Emma felt a chill run the length of her spine. “What did you say?”

Darren lifted his face again. A deranged smile stretched across his face. “He said you were weak. Easy to manipulate. It seems Emma Swan is all grown up now.”

He flashed a deranged smile. In an instant, Emma had her hand around his throat, the silver knife lay forgotten on the floor.

“How do you know my name? Who told you all that?” The hand clutching his throat was shaking.

The man gave a wheezy cackle beneath her fingers. “Ba-Baelfire.” he said.

Emma was overcome with a fear and a rage she had not felt in years. Without thinking, she plunged her free hand directly into his chest and withdrew it, Darren’s heart clutched in her palm. Darren’s eyes grew wide with shock.

“Magic?” he whispered.

“It seems you don’t know everything about me.” Emma growled, giving his heart a little squeeze. “How do you know Baelfire?” she shouted, feeling nearly as deranged as Darren looked.

Darren tried to speak, but couldn’t. Emma relinquished her grip on his throat and gripped his heart a little tighter. “Not… Nottingham.” Darren wheezed and fought against his bindings, trying to clutch his throat. “Bael… fire… worked... for Nottingham.”

Emma felt sick. It was all a set up. She took the fall for a crime she didn’t commit because the man she thought she loved set her up.

“Where is he now?” Emma demanded with another little squeeze.

Darren leered. “He’s right outside the door.”

Seized with a thrill of rage and horror, Emma squeezed Darren’s heart to dust. His smile froze on his face and his head flopped forward. His arms hung limply at his sides.

“Swan.” Hook said quietly. He was staring at her, terror and rage in his face. Emma looked down at her hand, still full of the dust that was Darren’s heart.

“I can explain.” Emma said as the front door burst open.

Before either of them had time to draw their swords, four pairs of arms seized Hook and Emma and dragged them from the room. Emma pulled with all her might, trying to free herself from their grip but it was no use. Her captors dragged her to the front lawn and forced her into a kneeling position. They each placed a firm hand atop her shoulders, preventing her from rising. Emma looked sideways and saw Hook kneeling as well. Though he was facing her, he kept his eyes averted, as though he couldn’t bear to look at her anymore.

Emma wanted desperately to say something but she didn’t know what, and she didn’t dare breathe a word of what happened, in case her captors heard. She was usually extraordinarily careful when it came to her magic. Rose was the only person who knew of her abilities. Until now. Despite the fact that she and Hook were almost certainly facing death, despite the fact that she was still reeling from the mention of that name, what broke Emma Swan’s heart the most in that moment was the look on Hook’s face. The pain, the anger. One moment of weakness, one burst of magic and Emma had lost her ally. A man she had grown to consider her friend. All of that was gone the instant she ripped Darren’s heart from his chest.

Emma finally looked away from Hook when movement off to the side caught her eye. She looked up and felt her breath catch in her throat. She hadn’t seen him in over ten years and yet, as Baelfire strode toward her, he looked as though he hadn’t aged a day. He was still as loathsome and, Emma hated admitting it, as heart-stoppingly handsome as he had been back then. Words failed her. In that moment, forced to crouch before him, she was no longer a fearsome pirate captain. She was that same scared teenager that fell in love with the stranger who told her she was beautiful and disappeared without warning.

Baelfire was smiling as he approached her. “Emma Swan.” he said. Emma wanted to look anywhere but at the man who broke her. Yet she took a deep breath and looked up into his eyes, trying not to feel like her world was being rocked on its axis.

“Baelfire.” Emma spit out. Thankfully, her voice did not shake.

He simply smiled a maddening smile and bent so that their faces were nearly level.

“It seems the years have not been good to you.” he chuckled as he placed a hand on her chin, his eyes raking over her face appraisingly.

Emma jerked her head out of his grasp. “The same could be said for you.”

At this, Baelfire actually laughed. The sound hit Emma’s ears like a dull mallet.

“Oh Emma,” she could practically hear the pretension dripping off of his every word. “I’ve spent the last decade rising in the ranks of Nottingham’s service. I’ve amassed a small fortune and a glowing reputation. I have become well versed in the ways of many a Royal Court. And what have you been doing, all this time?”

“Oh, you know, pillaging and plundering and all manner of sundry tasks that a pirate captain is charged with. Not exactly what you’d expect from the lowly barmaid you abandoned, is it?”

Baelfire laughed, “quite right. You certainly did exceed my expectations. Yet, here we are.” He spread his arms wide and looked around, “all these years later and you’re still kneeling at my feet.” 

Emma writhed in anger and fought to stand up. Her captors momentarily lost their grip on her and that was all she needed. She delivered a sharp blow to one’s stomach and a blow to the other man’s nose. Both men crumpled. Next she went straight for the two holding Hook. She barreled into one, knocking him over while Hook took out the other that was holding him, his hook plunging in the man’s stomach, before advancing on the men who had been holding Emma. His hook flew through the air and both men crumpled to the ground as Emma slashed the throat of the man she knocked down. The pirate captains turned to Baelfire, who looked shocked.

He turned to run, but Hook was quickest. He grabbed Baelfire and threw him to the ground. Before Baelfire was able to regain his footing, Hook grabbed him again and forced him into a kneeling position.

Emma walked slowly toward him, delighting in the fear she saw in her old lover’s eyes.

“D.. don’t kill me.”

Emma bent low toward him. “Oh Baelfire,” she said quietly. “I’m not going to kill you.”

“You… you’re not?”

“No.” Emma’s voice was just above a whisper. She bent until her lips hovered just above his. “Why would I kill you, Baelfire? I loved you.” she kissed him.

“I loved you too.” Baelfire said earnestly.

“Hmm… you know, I almost believe that.” Emma said, straightening up again. “But you see, there’s something you’re forgetting.” In a flash, Emma turned and plunged her knife deep into Baelfire’s stomach. Kneeling in front of him, she could see the light start to leave his eyes.

“I’m not that lowly barmaid anymore.” with one final twist of her knife, Hook released Baelfire and they watched as he slid to the ground.

Emma didn’t realize she was sobbing until Hook came and put his arms around her. “It’s alright, love.” he said. That was it. Emma knew Hook was still angry with her, she knew there was a lot that needed to be said and plans to put into place, but at that moment as she sobbed onto Hook’s shoulder for the shock and the grief of the last decade of her life, she felt comforted by the scent of leather and rum and the presence of his arms around her.

When at last she had stopped sobbing she took a great, shuddering breath, dropped her arms from around him and stepped back. Hook continued to look away from her. She could see the anger still etched in his face.

“Hook, about what happened in that room,” his jaw tightened. Emma sighed. “Let’s head back to your ship. I need a drink. And we need to talk.”

“Aye, love. That we do.” Hook uncorked his flask and gulped down a generous measure before passing it to Emma. She took it and drained the rest. They walked in silence for a few minutes. Once the docks were in sight, Hook stopped and held up a hand.

“Just answer me this: what else did the Crocodile teach you?”

It was Emma’s turn to look confused. “I don’t know any Crocodile.”

“The Dark One.” Hook said impatiently. “I’ve seen him rip out a human heart before. What else did he teach you?” he asked again.

Emma reached out and put a hand on his arm. Hook flinched but did not shake it away. She took that as a good sign.

“Hook,” She said, “I promise you: I’ve never met the Dark One. He didn’t teach me anything.”

“Then where did you learn how to do that?” Hook demanded.

Emma sighed again and rubbed her temple. She was exhausted. “A drink.” she said, “And then I’ll tell you everything.


	13. The Crocodile and the Midwife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Hook have a lot to talk about and a very large bottle of rum to get through.

The ships were quiet. Midnight had come and gone. Hook spoke briefly with the midshipman who was keeping watch while Emma stood on the deck, staring at the horizon, trying to regain some semblance of balance within herself. She could feel her magic surging beneath her skin and fought to rein it in. There had been too much magic that night already. Hook walked back toward her and, with a nod, headed toward the Great Cabin. Emma followed. As he bolted the door shut, Emma walked to his liquor cabinet and withdrew the rum and two glasses. She brought these to the table and filled both cups. She took a large gulp from her cup as Hook sat in the seat beside hers.

Silence fell. Emma was unsure where to start. There was so much that needed to be said.

“Her name was Milah,” he said, rolling his glass between his fingers, “and I loved her.”

Through the course of their first glass of rum, Captain Hook told his story. How they met and fell in love. How the man she married took her from this world.

“He… that Crocodile… ripped Milah’s heart out of her chest and crushed it into dust and there was nothing I could... I thought he was going to kill me too and I welcomed death in that moment. But somehow he let me live. I swore to avenge her, but the Crocodile is a slippery creature.” Hook drained the last of the rum in his cup. Emma was not one to show sympathy or remorse, at least not anymore. She wasn’t much for comforting a being in pain yet as she watched his eyes shine a bit too bright, watched the pain that silently haunted him all these year manifest on his face, Emma wanted nothing more than to hold him, as he had held her not long ago. The thought terrified her.

Hook stopped speaking. Emma did not say anything. She didn’t respond with “I’m sorry” or “that’s awful” or any manner of false words of comfort. She simply reached for the rum bottle and refilled his cup. He did not say thank you, he did not need to, but simply raised his glass in her direction by an inch or two without looking at her and drank deeply.

Emma was finally feeling the effects of the alcohol. She began her story. “I loved him. Or, I thought I did,” she said quietly. Emma told Hook about those first nights with Baelfire, when he was just a stranger-turned-lover who kept her warm at night. How he disappeared. And then, exactly how she met Nottingham.

Hook stopped spinning his glass. “Baelfire. This man. He set you up to take the fall for his crime?”

Emma could only nod. Hook said nothing. It was clear that he didn’t know what to say. Emma hesitated. She had agreed to tell him everything and she intended to keep her word, but some things were better left unsaid. Emma told him about Robin and Regina, of their kindness. She spoke of wandering to another village. She did not mention John or Evangeline.

“Her name was Rose,” Emma said, “She was the one who taught me magic. She was a… healer of sorts, in town. She saw me rip out a heart once. He attacked me and I fought him off. I was scared and angry and I ripped the man’s heart out of his chest. Once I realized what I had done, I was terrified. I had no idea what was happening. I did the only thing I could think of- I plunged his heart back in his chest and I ran. Rose watched the whole thing. She brought me back to her shop. Taught me how to control the magic.” Emma downed the rest of her glass and refilled it again.

“So this whole time,” Hook muttered darkly, scowling into his rum. “This whole time you’ve been able to do magic. And you never told me.” He was glaring at the wall with a murderous gleam in his eye.

“Of course I didn’t!” Emma said, “and this is exactly why!” she gesticulated to Hook. “From the moment you saw me rip that heart out, I saw fear and hatred in your eyes. You once trusted me, and now you won’t even look at me.” Hook glanced at her and then looked away again.

This time when Emma spoke, her voice was softer; “There is plenty of Dark Magic in the world and I have no interest in any of that. I have magic. I can’t change that. But I can control it. Before tonight I had not ripped a heart out. Not since that first time, all those years ago.”

The candles burned low and still they sat together, talking and drinking. She told him of the orphanage, of August. He told her of his brother, of Neverland and the roundabout way he came to this realm. When at last the candles were all but extinguished and the rum bottle was empty, Emma slid back her chair and got up to leave, swaying slightly as she did so (it was a large bottle). Hook stood as well and almost swayed into her. Emma took a step back and tried to regain her balance. It was so dark, Emma could only see the vaguest outline of his face. But she knew he was there. Standing there in the dark cabin, Emma was seized by a sudden desire to grab onto the lapels of his fine leather jacket and kiss him senseless. But even drunk, Emma knew better.

Yet still, she wanted to do something. This night had changed the course of their friendship. He now knew her better than anyone living, possibly better than August. That thought didn’t make her feel as guilty as she thought it should have. At a loss for what to do, Emma reached out and took his hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers. They stood there, unable to see one another in the dark, their hands intertwined. Again, Emma fought the desire to run into his arms and kiss him. She lightly squeezed his hand and then withdrew her own. She swung the door shut behind her and walked back to her ship.

As she walked up the gangplank, she was hit by a sudden wave of anxiety at the thought of running into August. She didn’t want to explain where she had been. Though she knew perfectly well that she didn’t own anyone an explanation for her whereabouts, with August it was different. He would always be her big brother, demanding why his little sister was out so late. 

Much as it was on Hook’s ship, the only person on deck at this time of night was the midshipman, Milosh. He bowed as Emma approached him. “Welcome back, Captain.” His voice was so low it was almost a growl. He stood over six feet tall and had the build of a warrior.

Milosh had been with her crew ever since they had met nearly five years ago. He was one of the first to join her crew. Though Sina told Emma where her brother lived during the time they shared a cell, it was years later before Emma found the courage to seek him out. Once she did find him, her worst fears were realized. Milosh told her that Sina had died shortly after she made it out of Nottingham’s prison. She had been captured after she fled and was executed that night.

Though Emma didn’t expect anything from him, Milosh felt he owed her a great personal debt for the way she helped Sina escape. Despite feeling as though her efforts had been futile, Milosh insisted that Emma had saved his sister’s life. Or at least, she tried to. Because of this, Milosh offered his services among her crew as gratitude. He quickly proved to be a worthy sailor and a loyal crewman. Though Emma felt confident that she could handle herself in any situation, his presence on board nevertheless brought her a sense of comfort. He had claimed the lives of many adversaries over the years and had saved her skin more than once.

“All well here?” Emma asked, only the slightest trace of a slur in her voice.

“Aye.” Milosh replied, a shadow of a smile on his face. “Did you enjoy the tavern, Captain?”

Emma scowled in his direction. Despite her best intentions, she had not fooled Milosh. To be fair, very few people could. “In a manner of speaking,” she replied, trying and failing not to slur the last word. Milosh chucked. The sound was somehow comforting in his low, gravelly voice.

“Good night, Milosh,” Emma said, bowing her head slightly and turning to walk away. Stumbling on the first few steps.

“Good night, Captain,” he said to her retreating back. Emma smiled and held tight on to the rail for support as she descended the few stairs to her quarters.


	14. Family Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who are you?” Emma was quite certain she already knew the answer to that question. He had Baelfire’s eyes and her chin. But she needed him to say it.
> 
> “My name is Henry. I’m your son.”

The Tallahassee was getting ready to set sail when a small boy in a long grey cloak climbed the gangplank, unnoticed by any of them. He strode right up to Leroy as he was hauling in a line.

“I’m looking for Emma Swan.” Henry said.

“That’s Captain Swan to you, lad.” Emma said from her place beside the helm. The rest of her crew paused in what they were doing to look at this strange sight. Emma looked around at her crew, arms folded, an amused smile on her face. “I didn’t realize we were recruiting so young!” Emma called. Her crew laughed in response, “All right, which of you bilge rats let a child on board?” When no one answered, she turned back to the boy. “We’re about to set sail, so unless you want to be stuck on the sea for the next week, I’d go back down the way you came.” Emma gestured to the gang plank behind him and turned once more to her crew, “And you’d do well to be more mindful about who comes on board this ship. The next person who lets a trespasser on board will walk the plank!”

Her crew all continued what they were doing after a hastily shouted “Aye, Captain!”

Emma turned her attention back to the helm. Not the least deterred, Henry climbed the few stairs to the Quarter deck.

“You’re Emma Swan?” he asked again.

“I told you, it’s Captain.” Emma said testily. “And I believe I told you to get off my ship.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t know how I can be any clearer. You need to leave this-”

“Do you remember John and Evangeline?” Henry asked, cutting her off.

Emma’s arms dropped to her sides. Her face whitened and her mouth went dry. “What did you say?”

“John and Evangeline.” Henry repeated. “Ten years ago you gave them your-”

“Stop!” Emma cried, holding her hand out in front of her, “Well, it seems we do have something to discuss after all.” She tried not to let her voice shake but it was difficult.

Emma looked around quickly. A few crewmen were standing within earshot, including August. Her brother was hovering near the other side of the helm, listening intently. Emma turned to him.

“Call the men to stop. We’re not leaving just yet.”

August looked confused. “But, Captain, we’re running behind as it is.”

“I’m aware of that, Quartermaster.” Emma hissed at him, “But I am telling you that we need to stay in port.”

August watched her suspicious for a few more seconds and then nodded. “Aye, Captain.” he said.

Emma returned his nod and turned to the Henry. “Follow me.” she ordered. Emma led Henry down the stairs into the Great Cabin. When the door closed behind them, Emma crossed straight to the liquor cabinet in the corner. She poured a measure of rum into one of the glasses and drained it. Then she rounded on Henry.

“Who are you?” Emma was quite certain she already knew the answer to that question. He had Baelfire’s eyes and her chin. But she needed him to say it.

“My name is Henry. I’m your son.”

Emma’s hands shook and she poured more rum in her glass. Wordlessly, Emma watched as Henry removed his cloak. She caught sight of the Royal crest on his shirt.

“Hold it,” she said, pointing to the crest, “What do you take me for? I never gave a son or anything else to the Royal family in the Enchanted Forest. I don’t know how you discovered my secret, but you are clearly not my son.” Henry raised his eyebrows. Emma noticed again how much his eyes looked like Baelfire’s.

It was Henry’s turn to fold his arms, “You didn’t give me to the King and Queen.” His face softened and he added quietly, “John and Evangeline died. A long time ago. King David and Queen Snow raised me after that.”

“Oh.” Emma didn’t know what else to say. They were silent for a while. Then she added, “So, you really are… my son?”

“Yep.” Henry said.

They fell silent again. Then Emma asked, “How did you find me?”

“It’s a long story.” said Henry emphatically.

Emma laughed shakily. “Okay.”

More silence.

“So… did you… do you need something? I mean… why are you… here?” Emma had handled many difficult situations in her life and for the most part had done so gracefully. However, never in her life had she imagined she’d be having a conversation quite like the one she was currently having, or at least attempting to have, with the baby she gave away over ten years ago.

Henry looked at her. “I just wanted to meet you.”

“Oh,” Emma replied. “okay.”

“So you’re a pirate captain, huh?”

“Yeah.” Emma responded with a smile.

“That’s pretty great, I guess.” Henry narrowed his eyes, “Wait,” he continued, “What’s the name of your ship?”

“The Tallahassee,” Emma said, narrowing her own in response, “Why?”

Henry’s face went slack, “I know that name. Hang on,” his face filled with horror, “It was you! You attacked the Avalon!”

“The what?” and then she remembered. The battle. The tavern. The stranger in the dark. “Oh,” she said.

Henry’s face filled with anger. He got quickly to his feet, “You killed all those men! I knew them! They were protecting me and my family and you killed them”

“Yes, I did,” Emma replied quietly. In all her years as a pirate, she had never been confronted by a relative of a former adversary.

Emma saw tears form in the corner of Henry’s eyes. It broke her heart to know she caused him this pain. “I’m sorry,” was all she knew to say.

“No, you’re not!” Henry yelled, “You’re not sorry! You’re just a cruel, filthy pirate and I wish I’d never met you!”

And with that, he stormed out. The rest of the crew watched as he streaked past them and ran far too quickly down the gangplank. Emma wanted to follow him, to talk to him, even though she still didn’t know what to say. She was aware that the rest of her crew were watching her. Quietly, she beckoned Milosh forward and whispered to him; “Milosh, follow him. Make sure he gets safely back to the palace in the Enchanted Forest.”

Milosh’s eyes widened in surprise but he nodded. “Aye, Captain.”

“Wait.” Emma ran back into the Great Cabin and picked up his cloak. She handed this to Milosh back on the deck.

“We will be back at this port in three day’s time. Can I trust you will return by then?”  
“Aye, Captain.” Milosh repeated. He grabbed his own cloak and followed the young prince into the woods. Still visibly shaken, Emma looked off into the forest, watching the two of them retreat.

Then she turned to the rest of the crew. “Sail away!” she hollered.

The responding chorus of “Aye, Captain.” was punctuated by more than one curious whisper. 

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/  
They had been sailing for two days when they were hailed by a Royal vessel. Emma commanded her crew to assume their battle positions but a minute later called “Halt!”

She had to look through her spyglass again, but there was no mistaking the white flag that ascended the mast.

“Stand down,” she called. Frightened, confused whispers flew around her. “They’ve raised a white flag. They wish to parlay.”

“And if the attack?”

“Than we give them one hell of a fight!” Emma called.

Her crew cheered “Aye!” in response.

When the Royal ship drew level with them, two men withdrew a wide gangplank and laid it as a bridge between the two ships. A tall, handsome man in full regal attire crossed that plank and hopped onto the deck of the Tallahassee. Emma had never seen the King of the Enchanted Forest in person, but there was no mistaking the crest on his chest.  
Emma did not descend to the main deck, nor did she or any of her crew bow to him, but instead she remained where she was by the helm. She called down to him in a voice that carried across to the rest of the crew. "You are quite brave to come here alone, your Highness." 

"Brave or stupid!" A high voice called from the crowd now gathered around the King.

The King held up his hands in a gesture of peace. Or surrender. "I am not here to fight," he said.

"Damn right, you're not," that same voice called. Emma smirked and looked once more at the King.

"I'm simply looking for my son." Sorrow stabbed her heart. "A traveller said he saw him climb aboard your ship. He's small for his age-"

"I know the Prince." Emma said shortly, her heart beating in her head.

King David's voice grew more anxious, "You do? Is he here?"

"He was," Emma kept her face calm and tried to control the beating of her heart.

"Where is he now?"

Emma could tell he was growing desperate and she was in no mood to relieve him of that.

“Of course, it would be an honor to help one as esteemed as yourself,” she said sycophantically, “we are but poor, humble pirates, sire.” She paused, “however, I’m sure we could find some way to help you. For a price, of course.”

King David's face hardened for a moment. Then he flashed his most diplomatic smile and reached into the pocket of his cloak. “Of course,” he said smoothly, tossing her a heavy bag of gold. Emma weighed it expertly in her palm and passed it to Leroy, who opened it and peered inside. He gave Emma a quick nod.

“Your boy is fine.” Emma said, folding her arms in front of her. “I sent him back to your palace in the company of a trustworthy associate.”

The King’s eyes grew dangerous. “If that pirate harms my son in any way-”

Quick as a flash, Jack had a knife to the King’s throat. Realizing his mistake, King David took a step back and held his hands up again.

It gave Emma a thrill to watch the King of the Enchanted Forest at her mercy. Especially given what, or rather who, they now had in common.

“I assure you, your son is in fine hands.” 

Relief spread across his face and he sighed. The sight made her feel oddly jealous.

“Go about your way. Your boy will be waiting for you at home.


	15. A Shift in the Tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even strong alliances don't last forever.

There was a knock on the door. “Enter,” Emma called. August walked through the door. Her smile upon seeing her brother faded almost at once.

“August, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I just have one question to ask you.” Though he spoke quite calmly, Emma could feel the tension radiating from him.

“Of course, August. You can ask me anything,” Emma said.

“What business did you have with the young prince?” August watched her intently.

Emma faltered. Why did he have to ask the one question she could not answer?

“That’s none of your concern.” she said.

“You said I could ask you anything.” August countered. He did not raise his voice yet Emma could tell he was angry.

“Aye,” Emma agreed, “I did. However, that is not something I am willing to discuss. What transpired between that boy and myself is not your concern neither is it your business.” There was a note of authority in her voice, one she rarely used with her brother.

Anger flashed in August’s face. “Aye... captain.”

August nodded and left, shutting the door quietly behind him. Emma sat down behind her desk and stared at the wall. Echoes of her conversation with Henry kept replaying in her mind. She saw his face. The anger. The disappointment. It was possible there were some children out there who would have been thrilled to learn their parent was actually the captain of a pirate ship. It seems that this young prince was not one of them.

As the sun sank close to the horizon, Emma left her cabin and walked above deck. She was about to ask for a status report from Leroy, as Milosh was still out escorting Henry back to the castle, when there came a great shout behind her. Turning, she saw her entire crew advancing on her with their swords drawn. Shock stopped her heart but she drew her own sword and held it out in front of her.

“What is the meaning of this?” she hollered, “get back to work!”

“Yes, see there’s the problem.” A voice called from the crowd. August advance toward her. Though his sword was still sheathed, there was fire in his eyes. 

“August.” Emma fought to keep her voice level.

“The problem,” August continued as though he hadn’t heard her, “is that we no longer take orders from you.”

“What are you talking about, Quartermaster?” Emma asked, fighting valiantly to retain some level of authority. August simply laughed.

“I believe the term is ‘Captain,’”August’s smile became arrogant and his voice dripped with malice. He nodded to someone standing behind her and suddenly Jake and Jackson, two men she had trained since they were boys, held her hands roughly behind her back, shaking her knife from her hand and tying her wrists together with the knots she had once taught them. They forced her into a kneeling position while Leroy stood in front of her with a knife pointed at her heart.

"You have been lying to us for weeks, Emma. If not longer.” August said.

“What are you talking about?” Emma’s heartbeat pounded in her chest.

“The crown prince of the Enchanted Forest walzed right on board as though he had been here a thousand times before. As though you two were old friends. We could have killed him or held him hostage. No doubt he would have fetched us a worthy reward. Our food supplies are low again. They have been for weeks. The handsome reward his young head would have fetched could have cured that. However, after conversing with him alone in your quarters, you sent him off again in the company of our greatest fighter.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Emma said, glaring up at August.

“Oh?” August asked lightly, “then pray, enlighten us.”

Emma looked around. She had given years of her life to this crew. Under her command they had prospered. She cared for them, pushed them, demanded the best from them and this was how they were going to repay her. At the slightest speculation of something that might have been treason, they sided against her. As though the had been waiting for something like this. As she knelt on the deck before them all, faced with the possibility of death, Emma kept her silence. They had stripped her of her title, her dignity, but she still had her pride. She still had one secret to call her own. She continued to glare at August and said nothing.

“For too long you have been keeping secrets from us. Time and again you leave us on board this ship while you traipse through the forest with the duplicitous Captain Hook. You claim there is an alliance. You claim he is on our side. How can we know that? How can we even know that you are on our side? You cavort with other pirates and royals and who knows what other vile sorts of characters have crossed our paths. How do we know you won’t turn on us too? How do we know you haven’t already?”

“I have given my life to this crew!” Despite her earlier vow, Emma could no longer stay silent. “I have sweat and bled alongside each and every one of you. I fought with you in countless battles and shared the spoils of war as your equal. How can you believe for a moment I would not continue to fight with you now?”

“And how many battles have you fought with Hook?” August shot back, pacing the deck in front of her with his sword still pointed at her. “Alliances shift. People change. Ever since we have joined forces with the Jolly Roger, you have forgotten us.”

“That’s not true!” Emma cried.

“You have spent more time with Captain Hook than you have with your own supposed crew.”

“No! I-”

“Enough!” August shouted. Emma continued to look up at him and fought to maintain her composure.

“This is done, Emma. You are done. I am now the Captain of the Tallahassee!” the crew gave a great cheer at this pronouncement.

“Do we end her, Captain?” Leroy asked when the crew had quieted again. That leer which Emma had so grown to love taunted her now.

August stepped closer to her. He knelt down so that he was looking her in the eye. Emma resisted the urge to spit in his face.

“No,” he said quietly. Emma looked into the face of the man who had once been her brother. There had been a time when he cared for her. Protected her from the harshness of the world. There had been a time when he was her most trusted advisor. Her best friend. Emma looked up into his eyes. There was no love there now.

“Toss her on the dock and be ready to set sail immediately.”

There came a chorus of “Aye, Captain.” It pierced Emma’s heart to know that those voices were not calling for her.

August bent low toward her. “You’re not the Savior here anymore,” he whispered in her ear. Then he stepped back and signalled to Jake and Jackson. Emma was dragged off of her ship and thrown roughly facedown on the dock. She could hear laughter as she struggled to right herself. Emma rolled onto her back and sat up. As she watched her ship sail off without her, tears stung behind her eyes but she willed them not to fall. Not yet. The Tallahassee was a mere dot on the horizon before she twitched her hand as much as she could and the bindings on her wrists disappeared in a puff of smoke. Emma knees and wrists were sore and her spirit was bruised. She felt her face. There was a gash from when she had been thrown on the docks. Another wave of her hand and it too disappeared.

She needed a drink. Though her former crew had left her with nothing, not even her overcoat, Emma was a pirate. She had a few coins stuffed in the toes of her boots. They might buy her a drink at a tavern.

In the gathering dark, Emma could still make out the sails of the ship she had loved nearly as much as the Tallahassee. Quickly she got to her feet and marched over to where it sat. The midshipman tipped his hat when he saw her climb the gangplank. She could see his confusion regarding her missing coat but it was not his place to ask and she did not offer an explanation.

She knocked on his door and he told her to come in. Hook was pouring over nautical charts. He looked up as she strode toward him.

“Swan! Good, you’re here. I think I’ve discovered where-”

Emma grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled his mouth to hers. Hook froze for a second, completely stunned, before he kissed her back eagerly. They stumbled together until Emma was half-sitting on the edge of his bed in the corner of the room. She wrapped her arms around him and held him as tightly to her as she could, kissing him desperately, wanting every part of him.

“Wait.” Hook paused, catching his breath. “You said we couldn’t do this, that we were the Captains in this alliance-”

“I’m not a captain anymore.” Emma said hastily, leaning forward to kiss him again. But Hook pulled away from her.

Looking into her eyes, he said, “What are you talking about?”

Emma shook her head and rested it against his chest. She took a deep breath. Then another. At last she cleared her throat and looked into his eyes once more.

In response, Hook brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her more intently. At long last, Emma pushed that beautiful leather jacket off of his shoulders and laughed when it hit the floor with a soft flump. Hook raised an eyebrow at her but she just shook her head and kissed him again. He fumbled with the knots of her shirt.

“What’s the matter, captain?” she asked, leaning back slightly against the bed. “Not used to undressing a woman?”

“Most women wear corsets.” Hook muttered.

“I’m not most women.” Emma said quietly, looking off to the side.

Hook kissed her neck and she gasped, clutching the back of his head. “No, Swan,” he muttered against her skin, “you are most certainly not.” Emma’s heart skipped a beat as Hook bent his head and untied the knot with his teeth. Then he lifted her shirt over her head and stared lovingly at her bare skin illuminated in the candlelight, tracing his hand over her chest. Emma sighed and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling herself up toward him and kissing him again. Her fingers worked frantically to free his shirt from his pants and soon she was lifting it above his head. The feel of his bare chest on hers sent her reeling. His skin was soft and warm and Emma wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him even closer to her. Hook held her just as tightly and trailed kisses along her neck. Emma shivered as she felt the cold metal of his hook glide across her back. She took another deep breath and found his lips again.

Killian whispered her name and traced his mouth over every inch of her. He looked in her eyes as his hand traveled low over her stomach. This was more than a release. Though she wouldn’t admit it to herself, not yet, this was love. There was love in his eyes as he entered her. Love in hers as she moaned and wrapped her arms more tightly around him. Love in the way they collapsed together on his bed. As Hook held her and rocked with her, Emma felt a stirring within her very soul. 

Afterward they lay together on his bed. He held her and she let him. He trailed his hand up and down her arm and she laid her face on his chest and cried quietly. Hook did not speak. Instinctively, it seemed, he knew what she needed in that moment. Her tears fell on his chest and he kissed the top of her head and waited.

Emma wiped her eyes, took a deep, shaky breath and lifted her head. There, in the dim light of the guttering candle, Emma saw her own darkness reflected in his eyes. He knew her pain because it was so like his own. Somehow, over the last few weeks, he had grown to know and love her as no one else had. She brushed her hand across his cheek and kissed him gently. Then she laid back down, staring up at the ceiling of his cabin.

“I have a son.” She confessed.

Emma told him everything. Every detail she had not shared before. He stayed silent, his hand still tracing patterns on her arms. Emma had never felt more vulnerable and yet more secure. In all her life, she had never given so much of herself to one person.

Long after, when the candles had burned out and the only light came from the moon shining on the water outside the high windows, Emma Swan realized that she loved this man lying beside her. 

“So, where do you think that despicable, snivelling man-child is headed now?” Hook asked her in the dark. Emma smiled at his indignation on her behalf and considered the question. She knew August better than anyone. Emma thought back to that first, and only, council between herself, August and Hook. She thought of all of the times she had fought with him in battle; of his eagerness and willingness to jump in headfirst. Though he was quite skilled in hand-to-hand combat, he was also often rash and impulsive. He was the kind of pirate who shot before he knew where to aim. It was one of the many reasons he had never ascended to the rank of “captain” before.

“He’s going after Nottingham.” she said definitively.

“Alone?”

Emma nodded.

“But, he’ll be slaughtered.” Hook said.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Emma said bitterly. Hook shifted beside her and sat up on his elbow. Emma could just make out his facial features in the moonlight.

“Emma, he’s leading your crew to their death.”

“I know,” Emma said hopelessly, “Don’t you’d think I’d stop them if I could? But they’re not going to listen to me. Or you. If we show up on the Jolly Roger, August would likely bury us under cannon fire before we had time to raise a white flag.”

They fell silent. Emma could tell that Hook was thinking the same thing she was. She could tell because he laid his hand on her hip and even in the dark she could see the somewhat pained expression on his face.

“Say it.” Emma said firmly.

Hook looked at her for a few more seconds. Then he sighed. “There is another way.” She nodded and laid her arm over his, drawing his body closer to her own. Hook kissed her lips and her cheek, his head resting close to hers.

“The Prince,” he said quietly

Emma had known what he was going to say, so why did it feel like she had just been punched in the gut? “Henry,” she said quietly. She saw the young boy with Baelfire’s eyes so clearly in her mind.

“The King and Queen have got to know.” Hook continued, “Nottingham is coming for them and they have no idea. If we’re to have any hope of defeating him, we’ll need all the help we can get.”

Emma sighed heavily. “After all of our attacks on Royal vessels, it’d hardly be safe for me to just waltz into their castle, even if I am Henry’s birth mother.”

Hook kissed her cheek again and his lips travelled slowly down her neck. Emma let out a small moan. “Oh Swan,” he said, his lips against her skin, “you are capable of far more than you know.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked, her eyes closed.

Hook lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “I have yet to see you fail,” he said.

Never in all her life had Emma been kissed with as much tenderness as Hook now set against her lips. Another tear fell down Emma’s cheek and past her smiling mouth. She lingered in that moment for as long as she could. Then she sighed again.

“He won’t want to see me,” Emma said.

Hook held her closer to him. As usual, he knew what she didn’t say, “You didn’t abandon him.”

“Yes I did. I gave him away. I left him.” Emma’s voice broke as Hook brushed the tears from her cheek.

“You gave him his best chance,” Hook whispered. “You wanted him to have the life you never did.”

Emma suppressed a sob. “How can you know that?”

“I know you.” he said quietly.

They were silent for a minute. Then Emma took a deep, shaky breath. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go to the palace.”

“That’s settled,” Hook said as he tossed the covers aside. “I’ll go tell the midshipman to set a course for the castle.”

Emma put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from sitting up, “No. You don’t have to do that.”

Hook stopped. “What?”

Emma hesitated. She hadn’t brought up her magic since the night she crushed Darren’s heart. So much had changed now. “I’ll leave at first light.”

“If Nottingham’s headed there now, we don’t have time to waste.” Hook insisted.

“I know.” Emma said, deliberating. She had no idea how to say it delicately. At last she said, “I have magic.”

There was a pause. Hook nodded and waited for her to continue.

“I’ll… transport myself there at first light.”

Emma didn’t look at Hook. She couldn’t. After their conversation the night she crushed Darren’s heart, neither of them had mentioned her magical abilities. Hook rested his hand once more on her hips and she finally looked up into his face, terrified of what she would see there. He smiled and kissed her.

“Magic is a part of you, love,” he said. “You don’t have to hide it from me.”

She smiled in relief and kissed him enthusiastically. Hook laughed.

“I will tell the midshipman to set a course for Sherwood Forest instead,” he said, getting out of bed.

“What?” Emma asked, alarmed. “Why would you go there?”

“When we searched through the neighboring ports for anyone willing to fight, I found a crew that was initially unwilling to join our efforts. I received word from them this morning that, as their conditions have steadily worsened, they have had a change of heart. I had not contacted them yet as I did not think we were going to fight today. However, it seems the former Quartermaster has advanced our time tables.” Hook explained as he began to redress. Emma threw the blankets aside and sat up.

“Wait.” Hook said, coming back over to her and kissing her soundly. “The midshipman will man the helm until morning. I will be back in moments and I want to spend the last hours before dawn with you in my arms.”

Emma smiled and kissed him again, admiring the way the moonlight illuminated his silhouette. After the door closed behind him, Emma felt the familiar panic rising in her chest. Small sparks of magic began to fly from her palm. She had not spent a full night with a man in over ten years. Though she knew Hook was much different from anyone else she had ever slept with, the fact remained that Emma Swan did not spend the night. The sparks continued to build as she sat there alone, each burst momentarily illuminating the cabin around her. Just as she had decided it would be better to leave, Hook came back through the door.

He saw the magic in her hand. Emma’s sense of panic only grew. Hook walked over to her at once and even as her magic continued to leap from her palm, he placed his hand over hers. She looked at his face in the moonlight and the most miraculous thing happened: Darkness filled the cabin once more. In that moment, Emma felt more peace than she had in her life. Looking up at Hook’s face in the moonlight, She wanted nothing more than to lie beside that pirate for the short time they had, before dawn rose and they left to fight yet again. As Hook undressed once more and climbed back into bed beside her, Emma kissed him and smiled. She rested her head on his shoulder, laid a hand across his chest and closed her eyes.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Emma awoke to a knock on the cabin door. Though she was initially thankful that something had woken her in time, she couldn’t help but resent whoever had startled her out of the best sleep she’d had in years.

“Captain!” called a voice from the other side of the door. Hook’s eyes flew open, “We’ve spotted our port. We’ll be arriving in minutes.”

“Aye!” Hook groggily called back. Emma could hear the sound of retreating footsteps. Hook kissed the top of her head and stretched his limbs, rubbing his arm stump and looking around for his hook and brace which were lying on the table beside the bed.

“Good morning, love.” he said. Emma smiled and kissed him. She wanted nothing more than to remain there with him for hours, if not days. But their time had passed. At least for now. She kissed him again, a lingering kiss that ended with a soft laugh. Then she threw back the covers and went about gathering her clothes. Hook was not far behind. The two dressed quickly, saying little but sharing many side glances and coy smiles. At last Hook drew close to Emma. He was still warm from sleep. She ran her arms around his waist, under his long leather jacket and he let out a low moan. Emma laughed and kissed him again.

“I should be at the castle in minutes,” she said against his lips.

“Aye,” He replied, “I’ll join with the crew and we’ll sail to the Tallahassee’s aid.”

“With any luck, I will join you there with the Royal fleet.” She kissed him again and felt him tense. She looked into his eyes.

“Be careful, Swan.” He placed a hand on her cheek. Emma kissed him again.

“This will all be over soon.” Emma said, her arms still around him. She tightened her hold around him and kissed him hard. They broke apart and she rested her forehead once more briefly against his, catching her breath. At last she gave him one more quick kiss and drew back. His eyes were the last thing she saw before she disappeared in a whirl of grey smoke.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma seeks help from the very last two people she thought she would ever talk to.

It was almost too easy. Emma appeared right in a darkened room on the first floor. All of her years of sneaking through the orphanage had prepared her for this. She snuck through the castle, unseen by any of the guards. In next to no time, she found the throne room and there, looking as regal as could be, sat the King and Queen of the Enchanted Forest. Emma took a deep breath and strode into the room, appearing far more at ease than she felt. Once he saw her, King David stood and withdrew his sword, pointing it directly at her.

“You have no right to be here,” he said.

Emma smirked, “why not, exactly?”

“You assaulted King David, your sovereign!” Queen Snow White said indignantly.

“All due respect, he’s not my sovereign,” Emma said evenly.

Snow White looked affronted. “As a citizen of the Enchanted Forest-”

“I’m not.”

“I beg your pardon?” Snow White asked.  
“I’m not a citizen of the Enchanted Forest,” Emma repeated. “I have lived all over this realm. I do not even know where I was born, so I do not recognize the king or queen of any realm.”

Sympathy flashed across the Queen’s face. Then she said, “I could have you hanged for insubordination. Not to mention the attack on the Fledgeling and no doubt numerous other crimes.” Her tone was more musing than malicious.

“Aye,” Emma agreed.

“But you are Henry’s mother.”

Emma hesitated. “Aye,” she said.

“Why have you come here, then?” Snow White asked. “Surely you must have a reason for walking into our castle.”

“I’m sure you have heard of the Sheriff of Nottingham?”

The King and Queen glanced at one another. “Yes, we’ve heard of him,” King David said.

“I’m not sure what stories have reached this kingdom, but the truth is far worse than you can imagine,” Emma said. “He is terrorizing villagers and sailors alike. He is oppressing all he comes across through the most cruel methods possible. Other pirates such as myself have put forth every effort to stop him, but it is not enough. We need further allies. We need help from Royal forces.”

“Royal forces like those you have recently attacked,” the Queen countered.

“Yes,” Emma tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “Yes, I realize how this looks; asking you for help when I myself have attacked Royal ships on occasion, but this conflict is bigger than either of us. Nottingham is a threat to all people in this realm and beyond. The only way to end this conflict is to stop him.”

The King and Queen were silent for a moment. Then the King spoke; “Why should we trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” Emma responded reasonably. “But the fact remains that Nottingham has assembled a small armada, and he’s hungry for more territory. Your kingdom stands directly in his path. Your people. We have spies on the inside. We know he’s already charted a course in this direction, that he intends to launch an attack on your castle in a matter of days. And considering how easily I found my way in, how much trouble do you think he is going to have when he arrives under a cloud of cannonfire? Regardless of whether or not you trust me, we have to work together if we are to have any hope of stopping him.”

“Is that true?” came a voice from behind Emma. Turning, she saw Henry standing in the entrance to the hall. She felt oddly happy to see him standing there in his royal attire. Hook’s words echoed again in her head, “You gave him his best chance.”

“Aye,” Emma said to Henry.

There was no warmth in Henry’s eyes as he glared at her. Though Emma had experienced similar treatment from most people she had come across, it was nevertheless unsettling to see Henry look at her in that way.

“People are coming to attack us?” Henry asked. Emma nodded. “Pirates like you?” he asked bitingly.

“No, Henry,” Emma replied. “Nottingham is not a pirate. Pirates have a code. We value honor and the life of another human being. Though we will steal and sometimes kill, we would never enslave another person. We would never force a man to be anything other than what he is. No, Henry, Nottingham is not a pirate.”

Henry’s face softened. He nodded. Emma attempted to smile at him and turned her attention once more to the King and Queen. Henry’s parents had been watching this exchange silently. King David looked at his wife and she nodded solemnly.

“Alright,” he said, his eyes once more on Emma, “We will assist you in this matter. If you will provide us with any information you have regarding Nottingham’s whereabouts and details of your exploits thus far, we will aid you in any way we can.” King David held out his arm and Emma followed him out of the throne room into the adjacent war room.

In all of the many strange circumstances of Emma Swan’s life, this had to be the oddest: Dread Pirate Emma Swan, scourge of the seas, in a Royal Naval officer’s uniform at the helm of one of the largest ships in the Kingdom.

Yet, for a Royal ship, it failed to impress her. Though size was no guarantee for speed, this enormous brigantine seemed to have trouble picking up anything more than a gentle wind. Each time the sails fluttered half-heartedly, Emma longed for the Tallahassee. Though her ship was small, it was also light on the water. There were some days when she would swear they broke thirty knots. Yet now? There was a battle raging possibly ten leagues out. People she cared for, people she… loved, fighting for their lives and all she could do was stand on the deck of this ship that wasn’t hers and hope she would see them alive again.

Emma could feel her magic humming beneath her skin again. She focused all her energy on keeping herself together, yet she couldn’t stop thinking about Killian and her crew. The Jolly Roger would no doubt have joined the fight by now, if there still even was a fight. What if Nottingham’s forces were too numerous? What if the Tallahassee, her beloved ship, was already at the bottom of the ocean? Where was her crew? Where was Killian? Emma tried fruitlessly to focus on something, anything, else. Sparks danced along her fingertips again, more brightly than they had the night before. By some miracle, those around her had not noticed this yet but she could hardly keep her magic hidden for much longer. Looking around furtively, Emma found a space that was mostly hidden by crates and other items on the deck. She slunk back there as inconspicuously as possible and waved her hand toward the sails.

The canvas sails, which had been barely fluttering, now pulled taut in the wake of the strong wind Emma sent their way. She could hear the men shouting orders, excitedly moving about. Minutes ticked by, but Emma did not notice. She focused all of her attention on the wind, on propelling that ship onwards, on reaching the battle.

At last, at long last, the man in the crow’s nest called down that he could see warring ships ahead. Emma’s heart leapt, in fear or joy, she did not know which. She turned her attention away from the sails and onto the small cluster of ships just visible along the horizon. Even from this distance, Emma could see smoke furling upward and just make out the sounds of firing pistols. In her momentary distraction she forgot her magic and the sails began to lose their wind. The ship slowed down almost immediately. Shaking herself, Emma turned her attention back toward the sails and tried valiantly to keep moving the ship forward, but it was difficult. Try as she might, her mind kept wandering to the battle ahead of them. Where was Killian? Where was her crew? For though they mutinied against her, she still cared for them. Lastly, she wondered about August. Was he alive? Did she want him to be?

Upon their approach, Emma was able to get a better understanding of the scene before her. Nottingham’s ship was flanked on both sides by the Tallahassee and the Jolly Roger, just as those two ships had battled other adversaries over the last two weeks. Emma could see that the Tallahassee had far more damage than the Jolly Roger, as it was no doubt in the battle longer. The mast of her beloved ship lay fallen across the deck of Nottingham’s ship. The sails were disintegrated and much of the deck itself was missing. The Jolly Roger, while showing evident signs of battle, seemed to still be in decent working order. Nottingham’s ship alone looked more or less untouched, despite the fact that most of the fighting appeared to take place along its decks.

Once they were close enough for Emma to discern who was of Nottingham’s crew and who was of hers and Hook’s, Emma grabbed a line and swung over onto the deck of the center ship, knocking a sailor to the ground as she swung past him. Though Nottingham himself was nowhere to be seen, Emma joined the fray at once. She began to slay all who approached her while scanning for Hook, or August, or any from her crew.

As she battled Nottingham’s men, she began to notice something; nearly all of his crew wore the same expression; they were reluctant, some almost scared, as though they were fighting against their will. There was no fire, no flame of hatred fueling them forward. Emma was appalled. It was one thing to slay another sailor who knowingly engaged her in combat, it was another to take the life of an unwilling participant.

A dark shadow seemed to hang over them. There was something unnatural about this crew. It was more than the burden of slavery. An aura hung over the ships. And then Emma realized. There was Dark Magic here.

She shifted tactics. Instead of cutting them down with the blade in her hand, she knocked them in the head with the butt of it, or else the end of her pistol. While her opponents were reluctantly aiming to kill, Emma sought instead to render them unconscious. She took down nearly a dozen opponents in that manner before she heard his voice call, “Swan!”

Turning, Emma saw Hook running toward her, sword in his hand, blood dripping from his hook. Emma smiled, she couldn’t help it, but the next second she saw something that sent a chill running straight through her. August had been fighting with a Royal sailor nearby. He struck the sailor down and advanced behind Hook.

“HOOK!” Emma shouted, pointing behind him.

Hook turned, but August was quicker. The point of his sword had just made contact with Hook’s skin when Emma flicked her wrist.

In that moment she didn’t care that she’d left herself open to attack. She didn’t care that anyone who wanted to could witness her magic. All she cared about was Hook, and keeping him alive. Just as August was about to run Hook through, he was thrown backward by a blast of magic. The former Quartermaster slammed into the main mast and crumpled in a heap on the deck. He did not stir. Emma ran to Hook and grasped his arm.

“Emma.” Hook’s eyes were alight with love and the thrill of battle. She briefly put a hand on his cheek and then turned away from him, sword at the ready. Hook turned as well so that they were standing back to back.

“I was wondering when you’d turn up,” Hook shouted conversationally, running a sailor through with his sword.

“Those Royal ships,” Emma said as she beat a sailor with the hilt of her cutlass. “They look impressive but they can’t move worth a damn.”

“How did you get here so fast, then?” Hook shouted back at her.

“I might have assisted the wind in the sails.”

Another opponent collapsed before Hook. He turned to face her. “Swan, that’s it!” Emma’s hilt made contact with another skull and she turned to face him.

“What’s it?”

“Magic.” Hook looked slightly to her left and lunged, skewering her would-be attacker.

“What about it?” Emma asked, doing the same to a sailor advancing on both of them. Her hilt made a dull thunk sound against his skull.

“You can use your magic,” he said, “You can end this fight.”

“Hook, I can’t,” Emma replied, before taking on two sailors at once. Hook became likewise distracted. When they were within earshot of each other again, she said, “It’s too much power. I could lose control.”

“Emma you have done more than any other pirate I’ve ever had the pleasure to take up arms with. You already have far more power than you realize.” Again, they were distracted by other adversaries. “You can end this battle, Emma. You can put a stop to Nottingham.” 

His eyes found hers again. “You can do this, Swan.”

The way Hook looked at her in that moment made Emma feel as if she was capable of anything. She nodded and Hook turned his back on her again, ready to face whoever might be coming. Emma took a deep breath and raised her hands in front of her.

Emma felt her magic pulse beneath her skin. She closed her eyes and focused on that energy. Dimly, she heard Killian continuing to fight beside her, protecting her. She focused on him, on how comforted she felt by his presence, the way it felt when he looked at her, and her magic became a ball of brilliantly white light which grew larger and larger still until with an almighty yell, Emma opened her eyes and a shockwave fell over everyone across all ships. Every fighter had been thrown to the ground. The silence that fell in that moment after such a long battle was eerie.

“Nottingham!” Emma’s voice carried over every deck.

“Well, if it isn't the Lost Girl.” Nottingham was standing atop the highest deck of his ship, a mere ten feet from her. The silence around them continued to build. Though the other sailors were slowly getting once more to their feet, no one seemed at all keen to start fighting again.

“We end this. Now!” Emma called.

“But who's to say I want it to end?” Nottingham retorted. “Why would I end things now, when I am winning?”

“You call this winning?” Emma taunted back, her arms thrown wide as she gestured to the crews around her. “You have the combined might of the Royal Navy and free pirates alike attacking your crew, most of whom were coerced into fighting and do so only reluctantly. That's not much of a Navy, Sheriff.”

“Yes, they’re not much, are they?” Nottingham looked disdainfully around at his fighters, all of whom were still standing where they had fallen after they were hit with Emma’s magic. Each sailor wore a confused or blank expression on his face. Nottingham continued as he descended the stairs to the main deck, “Men are simple, reluctant creatures. You cannot hope to gain power if your soldiers can fight of their own free will. Some men let morals and ethics get in the way of accomplishing their goal. To command such an army requires a surprising amount of force. It requires a person to be creative. It requires more than simple training. They need… persuading.”

Emma felt a chill run through her. “Magic,” she said quietly. She had been right. “These people are cursed! They are not acting of their own free will! You have forced these men to fight and die for you!”

Hook gasped quietly. Emma looked and saw him gazing down at his own hook, horror struck.

Nottingham sneered at her. “Look around, Lost Girl. You will not win this fight.”

“This ends now,” Emma repeated, pointing her cutlass at him.

Nottingham sneer grew even wider. He drew his own sword. “You're brave, I'll give you that, but foolish.”

“We’ll see,” Emma replied. And just like that, Captain Emma Swan began dueling the most hated man in all the realms. While she had not yet lost a fight, she had only been using a sword for the last ten years. Nottingham, old as he was, easily had a few decades of experience on her. Despite his advanced age, his reflexes were as sharp as they'd ever been. Soon, Emma had multiple gashes on her face and arms. For every blow Emma dealt Nottingham, he gave two back.

It was her fault.

All her magic and the fighting had worn her down. Nottingham, high ranking and despicable as he was, had not yet engaged in the battle and was not so weary. She made one wrong lunge and Nottingham pierced her through. She fell backward and felt strong arms around her, gently lowering her to the ground. Nottingham had turned away, satisfied, wiping Emma’s blood from his scabbard. Emma was shaking. She was losing blood rapidly.

“Emma!” Hook cried, holding her tightly, staring at the wound on her stomach. “Emma, no! Please!”

She looked into his eyes. “I love you,” she said quietly.

Hook bent low and gently kissed her. Emma felt a surge of power from deep within her. She feebly waved a hand over her stomach. Though she was too weak to heal the wound completely, it nevertheless stopped the bleeding. Though still wounded, she would survive.

Before anyone had time to react, Emma was on her feet again, somewhat unsteadily, sword in her hand.

“Nottingham!” She shouted again. The former Sheriff barely had time to turn around before Emma ran him through with what little energy she still possessed. Nottingham’s eyes widened as his hands scrambled around the sword protruding from his chest and then he collapsed on the deck in front of her. Emma fell to her knees again, too weak to stand any longer. Hook’s arms once more came around her. She was vaguely aware of the sounds of cheering before her vision became fuzzy and she lost consciousness.


	17. The Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma returns once more to her beloved Tallahassee.

It was just after dawn when Emma woke up. The first rays of light cast a friendly glow on the light wood panels of the wall beside Hook’s bed and Emma blinked in the brilliance of it. Taking a deep breath, she rolled over and saw Hook sitting in a chair beside the bed, a book lying open in his lap. He looked up when he heard her movement. Setting the book aside, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“I was wondering when you would wake up.” His tone was light but the dark circles under his eyes told a different story. Hook pulled his chair forward so that his face was near hers.

“How long was I asleep?” Emma asked.

“Nearly an entire day.” Despite his efforts at nonchalance, Emma could hear the concern in his voice. She reached out for his hand and brought it to her lips. Hook smiled at the gesture. Slowly, the details came back to her. She remembered the battle. She remembered her fall. Quickly, Emma placed a hand to her stomach. The wound that remained was bandaged and dressed. This only added to her confusion.

“How did I get here?” she asked, letting her hands fall once more to her side.

“I brought you here,” he replied.

“You carried me all that way?”

For the first time, Hook laughed. “Swan, I’ve carried rum barrels heavier than you.”

Emma smiled at this and tried to sit up. Hook placed a hand on her shoulder, just as she had done to him two nights ago.

“Easy, love,” he said gently, “It takes a lot of strength, coming back from the brink of death.”

In response, Emma shifted in the bed until she had her back to the wall. It didn’t leave much room, but Hook got the message. He slipped into bed beside her and rested his hooked arm against her waist. Emma smiled and drew closer to him, closing her eyes again.

“Your crew survived.” Hook said quietly. Emma nodded into his chest, her eyes still closed. “Nottingham is dead. His crew is free. The Royal forces are scouring all of Sherwood Forest and the surrounding villages to rescue all who were under his rule.”

Emma sighed and sank further into the safety of his arms. They were quiet for a while before she took a deep breath and asked, “August?”

“Dead,” came Hook’s grim reply. Emma took another deep breath and did not respond. He knew what she did not say. “Not by your hand, love. He was slain while fighting another sailor. One of Nottingham’s, I think.” Emma nodded and began to quietly sob. Hook held her tighter to him and ran his hand across her back.

When she could speak again, she said, “He was my brother.”

“Aye,” Hook replied.

He betrayed her, he abandoned her, but he was still her brother and she loved him once.  
They were quiet for their longest stretch yet. At one point, Emma wondered if Hook had fallen asleep. Then he said quietly, “it was discovered, in the wake of the battle, that Nottingham’s men had been under a curse. That was what prompted them to fight. A few men he had managed to coerce through blackmail and other means but all who would not swear loyalty to him were put under a curse.”

Their strange behavior and the odd looks in their eyes suddenly made sense to Emma now. “How did they break the curse?”

“Don’t you know, Emma?” She pulled back her head to look at him. “It was you.’

“What?” Parts of the battle were still hopelessly blurry. She remembered falling. She remembered Hook catching her in his arms. And then there was a kiss…

“You… You told me you loved me and that kiss broke the curse. Nottingham’s men were once more themselves.” Hook said quietly. “After you ran Nottingham through, All other fighting stopped. Those who were forced to fight against their will were returned to their homes, the dead were buried at sea. The King and Queen in the Enchanted Forest have already sent word that they want to meet with you once you are well.”

Emma tensed. The battle was done, what more could they want of her? Hook held her more tightly to him and again they fell silent. Her mind was running through everything that had happened, not just in the battle, but in the months preceding it. It was a lot to process. Hook said nothing more, but simply held her. Eventually, Emma sighed. She gave him a long, lingering kiss and stood up slowly. She then removed her bindings and examined her wound more critically. With a slight wave of her hand, her skin mended itself as completely as if she had never been pierced by a sword. Then, Emma set about redressing and pulling her boots back on. She regarded the Naval jacket that was lying draped over one of the chairs in Hook’s cabin. It was stained with her blood, and what looked to be the blood of other sailors as well. She had no desire to wear it ever again. Hook saw her staring at the jacket.

“Looks rather the worse for wear, doesn’t it.”

“Aye,” Emma replied.

Hook shifted his weight from one foot to the other and scratched nervously behind his head. “What?” she asked him.

He took a deep breath and sighed. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

Hook seemed to wrestle with himself for a few more moments. Then he opened a draw and pulled out the most beautiful overcoat she had ever seen. Emma watched, her mouth hanging slightly open as Hook laid the coat out on the bed. It was dark red leather with black fastenings and black embroidery on the cuffs and collar. Moving closer, Emma gasped quietly. The buttons all had faint pictures of swans etched into them. She ran a finger lovingly over the etched buttons and the fine embroidery on the collar.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

His smile was pleased and yet somehow bashful. “I thought, once this battle was over, you would like a true captain’s coat. Not that what you had before was anything less than becoming on you, Swan, but a captain such as yourself deserves the best.”

Emma lifted the jacked off of the bed and slipped her arms in the sleeves. It was expertly cut and fit like a dream. She fastened the buttons and smiled. This felt right. This felt like home. Her arms slipped around Hook’s waist and she pulled him into a kiss. Their lips and tongues moved slowly together. Emma pulled her body closer to his and their kiss became more urgent. His breath hitched and she felt him stirring. Though she had just finished fastening the button, Emma’s fingers reached up to the top of her jacket. Hook lifted his hand and placed it over hers.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

For an answer, Emma simply raised her eyebrows at him.

Then Hook gave her an absolutely wicked grin. “Leave it on,” he said.

Emma felt a chill run down her spine, despite the warmth of the long jacket and pulled his lips once more to hers.

The sun was sinking low toward the horizon by the time Emma made it back to Snow White’s castle. She went through the front door this time and was ushered into the throne room. Henry was standing beside his mother’s throne. She was leaning toward him with her chin on her hand and gazing lovingly at him as he spoke to her. King David smiled at Emma from his throne. When they heard the door open, Queen Snow and Prince Henry also looked toward her. Henry hopped down from the small platform on which the thrones sat and ran toward Emma. She felt a thrill of apprehension and a desire to pull out a sword, which the guards had taken from her as they escorted her to this room. Before Emma could comprehend what was happening, Henry threw his arms around the waist of her long red jacket.

Emma was stunned. The last time they had been in the same room, Henry wouldn’t come within ten feet of her, and now… Never in her life had she been hugged by a child before. Never in her life had she been hugged by her son. After a few moments of complete shock, Emma bent toward him and rested her arms around his shoulders.

When Henry pulled out of the hug, he smiled up at Emma. “Thank you,” he said.

Emma was still somewhat dazed. “For what?”

“You saved them,” Henry replied. “You broke the curse. You saved all those people.”

Emma suddenly became as bashful as Hook had been earlier. “I wouldn’t put it that way-”

“I would,” said the Queen, as she rose from her chair and walked toward them.

“I owe you a great deal of thanks, Captain,” she said, extending her hand. Emma shook it. “If it hadn’t been for you, we would never have known what the Sheriff of Nottingham had become. Because of your bravery, Nottingham has been defeated. Because of you, our kingdom has been saved.”

Emma didn’t know how to respond to this pronouncement. Twice she opened her mouth to speak and twice she shut it again.

Throughout the Kingdom, Emma became known as “the Savior.” Though it had been a nickname some of her past conquests and sailors had taken to calling her, it had only ever existed among other pirates, and was most often said with derision. Yet now the rest of the kingdom spoke that name with respect, almost reverence in some places, which made other pirate crews quite reluctant to fight with her. Though she had embraced her power and used her magic more freely, Emma was still a pirate and she lived by the code. She never used her magic when fighting with adversaries from other ships at sea in order to gain the upper hand. She believed in the value of fair play and a good fight. But that did not stop her from adding a little extra wind to their sales or replenishing their food and water supply every now and then, or of course, saving a fellow crew member from a deadly injury.

The Tallahassee was completely repaired. Emma sailed once more as Captain of her beloved ship, which now sported a new mast, improved rigging and a refinished deck made from the finest wood in the Enchanted Forest. King David and Queen Snow said it was the least they could do, as Emma had saved the kingdom and that forest itself. Emma continued to pillage and plunder, though she no longer attacked Royal vessels. Besides the fact that she had made an agreement with the Royals, Emma hadn’t forgotten the look on Henry’s face after he learned she was responsible for the attack on the Avelon.

Emma did not re-enlist her old crew, though a few brave souls who survived the battle did come to ask the great Captain Swan for a place once more aboard her ship. She turned a blind eye to all who had mutinied her. Emma had a strong memory and a she did not forgive easily. Though she wished her mutinous former crew no ill, she did not allow them back into her good graces. They parted ways and she never thought of them again. Or at least, she tried not to.

The King and Queen offered her a place in their Royal Navy or anywhere else she saw fit, so great was their gratitude, but Emma had no interest in working for them. She was willing to fight alongside them with their navy, when the situation warranted it, but Emma had no desire to work for so regimented an organization as the Royal Navy. 

Milosh found her again. He was disgruntled about having missed the battle with Nottingham’s forces, but Emma quickly promoted him to her second-in-command and gave him plenty of opportunities to fight other adversaries.

It was another year before Henry went sailing with her. She visited him at the castle regularly. He showed her his skills with the sword and taught her a few techniques she didn’t know. Emma taught him all of the knots she had once taught Jake and Jackson, among other young sailors who found their home on the Tallahassee.

After assuring his parents that no harm would come to him and after the King and Queen had met Milosh, whom Emma swore would be his guardian, they allowed Henry to spend the day aboard the Tallahassee. By the end of their first trip, he had won over Milosh and had learned a few more colorful swear words. Emma groaned and made him promise not to repeat them around his parents. After their third trip out, he was climbing the rigging nearly as fast as Jasmine once had. On their first full weekend at sea, Hook taught Henry how to navigate using a sextant.

Though the Jolly Roger and the Tallahassee did go their separate ways from time to time, the two ships were often found docked at the same port. It was understood by both crews that Captain Swan was to be respected and treated as a captain while aboard the Jolly Roger and the same held true when Captain Hook was aboard the Tallahassee. It was an odd arrangement; two captains and two ships but both crews were amenable to this arrangement and after all, there were far stranger alliances.


End file.
